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HENRY OF NAVARRE 

A ROMANTIC PLAY IN FOUR ACTS 

/ o 7L 



3/0 



BY 

WILLIAM DEVEREUX 



THE KNICKERBOCKER PRESS 

NEW YORK 

1908 



. 






I i wo oooies H«cu».v 



| OCT 2 

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Copyright, ig 



GREENING & CO., Ltd. 



Ube ftnlcftetbocfcer press, Hew lorfc 



CAST. 



Charles IX. 
Henry de Bourbon 



Henry .... 

Henry .... 

Arthur de Mouhy 
Cosmo Ruggieri . 
The Due de la Rochefoucauld 
Marshal de Tavannes 
The Due de Biragues . 
The Due de Retz 
M. de Besme 
Catherine de' Medici . 
Marguerite de Valois 
Marie Belleforet 
Charlotte de Sauve . 
La Belle Dayole 
Mademoiselle de Torigny . 
Mademoiselle de Montmorenci 



King of France 
King of Navarre, 

after King of 

France 
Due de Guise 
Due d'Anjou 
A Huguenot Leader 
An Astrologer 
A Huguenot 
A Catholic 
A Catholic 
A Catholic 
A Catholic 
The Queen-Mother 



La Belle Fosseuse 



HENRY OF NAVARRE. 



ACT I. 



Royal apartments in the Louvre. Rich tapestry hang- 
ings. Window from which can be heard murmurs 
of Paris. Door L. Door hidden by tapestry at 
back. Chairs with Royal arms, etc. Servants 
cross with rich stuffs, etc. 
Enter Duke de la Rochefoucauld and Gentlemen. 
Roche. [Airily with the tone of an exquisite.] Ah, 
Des Valles, preparing for the mask to-night? I hear 
you are going to surpass yourself. 
Enter Arthur de Mouhy. He is a tall, dark, gloomy, 
religious, sombre man who has only two ideas, the 
Religion and Henry of Navarre. 
Roche. Welcome, De Mouhy, welcome to the 
Louvre. I have not seen you since Moncontour, when 
you were wounded. Things have changed. Then 
we were crushed to the ground, and hope itself had 
vanished. Now the Huguenots are in favour again. 
The King surrounds himself with us, he is unhappy 
when we are away. But why this dull suit, man? you 
come to a wedding, not to a funeral. You will dis- 
grace us with Catherine's fair ladies, the famous 
Flying Squadron. 

De M. I wear black like my master. You are 

3 



4 Henry of Navarre 

gay, M. Rochefoucauld, but Henry of Navarre has 
not forgot that but two months back his mother was 
poisoned in this palace. 

Roche. Tales, De Mouhy, tales. Let but a prince 
die suddenly, and Cosmo Ruggieri has put a poison 
in his wine, or his gloves are poisoned. Wear a bright 
face, man. I tell you the King loves us, as he fears 
the Guise. Has he not given his sister Marguerite, 
the most learned lady in France, to our young leader, 
the Bearnais Prince, Henry of Navarre? Get a new 
suit, man, and prepare you for the wedding. 

De M. I will, I '11 sharpen my sword, for the 
favours will be crimson. 

Enter Page. 

Page. Monsieur, the Due de Guise. 

Enter Guise with De Besme. 

Roche. Ah, M. de Guise! Do you dance in the 
mask to-night? The King and his brothers Anjou 
and Alencon defend the gates of Paradise, which are 
rudely assaulted by Henry of Navarre, Conde, and 
myself. Their skill renders the gates inpregnable. 
Then the King of his great generosity grants us ad- 
mittance. A pretty allegory, M. de Guise, showing 
that where arms fail love prevails, and Henry gains 
Paradise indeed in the arms of the most lovely lady, 
Marguerite of Valois. I must prepare my costume 
for to-night, the hour flies. Will you come, De Mouh3 T ? 
[Exeunt De Rochefoucauld and De Mouhy. 

Guise. [To Besme.] Fools! I wonder if we could 
ever be so blind and dance while death danced with 
us. 

De B. When is it to be? 

Guise. To-night if the King but agrees. This mar- 



Act I. 5 

riage has drawn them all together. Paris is one big 
net. To-morrow if the King wishes it there will not 
be a Huguenot alive in Paris. 

Enter Page. 

Page. The Queen-Mother, the Due d'Anjou. 
Enter Catherine de' Medici and two ladies, who 
arrange her dress and then retire. Anjou who has 
entered with her stands at her side. De Besme 
stands at the door. 

Guise. Madame, my felicitations. At last our 
plans are crowned with success. For nine years I 
have waited for this hour. Nine years ago my father, 
the Balafre, lay dead at Orleans, this dagger at his 
side. [Draws dagger.] I have sworn that it shall 
rust in Coligny's blood, and that I shall exterminate 
the Huguenots as I would the heathen. I was but 
a boy then; I have grown since, and my hate has 
grown with me. 

Cath. Everything is prepared, there can be no 
mistake ? 

Guise. Impossible. The Catholics are armed. 
Marcel, the provost of Paris, will lead them himself. 

Anjou. [An affected perfumed youth.] My gentlemen 
are ready, and the Swiss Guard. 

Guise. And all who have not the white cross in 
their hat, the white band on their arms, must die. 

Cath. It is wonderful that they suspect nothing. 
An Italian would not be duped so easily. 

Guise. Coligny dreams of nothing but of winning 
glory in Flanders. Henry of Navarre, the Bearnais, 
is a loutish country lad, King on suffrance, bred on 
garlic and mountain air, content to eat and hunt, 
drink and make love. 



6 Henry of Navarre 

Cath. Yet is it he of whom I am afraid. Cosmo 
Ruggieri says he will be King. 

Guise. A conjurer's tale! 

Cath. His father foretold my husband's death. 
The court laughed at him, but all the world knows 
that Henry Second fell to Montgomery's lance. 

Guise. The best way to cheat a prophecy is to 
fulfill it. Crown his dead head like the Welch prince 
of old. 

Cath. If all the others live, I swear that he shall 
die. Year after year I have fought with foes at 
home, and foes abroad, played one against the other, 
smiled with my heart on fire, flattered when I might 
not strike. I have seen another woman by my hus- 
band's side and heard him sing her praises. I have 
endured all, all, that my sons should reign. I have 
kept France a kingdom, when her princes would have 
dismembered her. I have saved the crown, for whom? 
For Henry of Navarre? Never! O that I were 
a man ! I would strangle him with my own hands. 

Guise. Have no fear, Madame, he will not escape. 

Enter Page. 
Page. The Princess Marguerite. 
Enter Marguerite with Marie Belleforet. Mar- 
guerite is a tall, stately, gracious woman, and 
Marie is short and slight and girlish, with a little 
piquant face and bright manners. 
Mar. [Anxiously.] He has come, you have seen 
him? 

Cath. The King of Navarre? 

Mar. Has he arrived? 

Guise. Yes, the Bearnais is here. 

Cath. And in a few moments he will wait on you. 



Act I. 7 

Mar. Then my last hope has gone. I have hoped 
and hoped he would not come. I heard that he had 
started on his journey, but still I prayed something 
might turn him back. 

Cath. [Suspiciously, thinking of massacre.] Why, 
what should turn him back? 

Guise. [Also suspiciously.] Has not the King 
given his word for his safety in Paris? 

Mar. I was not thinking of his safety. The 
Bearnais has been bred a mountaineer. He is rude 
and coarse, but he is no coward. 

Cath. He is simple. You need not fear Margot. 
The moment he sees you he will be at your feet. 
But you must robe yourself, child, to meet him. 

Mar. Not for a king of peasants. He would not 
know a silk farthingale from a cotton gown. Mother, 
I will not marry this Bearnais, no, not for you, not 
for my brother Charles. It is unnatural for a Catho- 
lic to marry a Huguenot. 

Cath. The King has sent to Rome for a dispensa- 
tion; you need have no fear. 

Mar. I love the court, my poets, and my music; 
he cares for nothing but hunting and his dinner. 
Besides, I hate him, Mother. 

Guise. Princess, you have never seen him. 

Mar. I met him at Blois. 

Cath. That is years ago when you were children, 
too long for you to remember him. 

Mar. But I do. He boxed my ears, I 've never 
forgotten it. I ate his sweets, he called me greedy, 
and then I pulled his hair. 

Guise. He 's a man now and will be like every 
other man — at your feet. 

Mar. [Musing.] I wonder. He had a nose and 



8 Henry of Navarre 

chin even then. He was not a man to let a woman 
rule him. But I will not marry him. I will not be 
sacrificed to a heretic, to a Gascon. 

Cath. Your brother Charles is set on it. Be care- 
ful how you thwart him. His mad fits grow on him 
until I tremble for myself. [Goes up to window.] I 
can do nothing. 

Mar. [Turning to Guise.] My own mother is 
against me. M. de Guise, you are the foremost 
Catholic in France. Can you not save me from this 
outrage ? 

Guise. There is one way, but it is desperate. 

Mar. Surely danger will not stop the Due de 
Guise. 

Guise. If the reward be great enough, if the prize 
be worth winning. [Speaking low and rapidly.] My 
uncle the Cardinal is all-powerful in Rome. If I 
stop the dispensation may I hope — may I hope that 
the most beautiful woman [taking her hand], the most 
beautiful woman in France will not be cruel to me? 

Mar. [Coldly withdrawing hand.] M. le Due! 
[He turns away, she stops him with a gesture.] Oh, M. 
de Guise, stop the dispensation and my gratitude 
shall end only with my life. 

Guise. [Passionately.] Will it be only — gratitude? 

Mar. [Haughtily.] M. de Guise! You forget, I 
am a princess of France. 

Enter Page. 

Page. His Majesty, the King. 

Enter Charles, Tavannes, De Retz, and Biragues 
and other gentlemen. Charles is in high spirits. 

Charles. Ha, ha ! now I have the wolf by the ears. 



Act I. 9 

It was an excellent idea this marriage ; confess, 
Mother, did I not play the part well? 

Cath. [Warning him.] Ssh! Margot, you may 
retire. 

Mar. [Going to the door, suddenly returns and 
confronts her brother.] Sire, Sire, must this mar- 
riage take place? You will not permit this 
outrage. 

Charles. Outrage ! outrage ! Harry 's a good fel- 
low and [looking at Anjou] not always scheming for 
riches or for power. I like Harry. He is fond of the 
chase too. 

Mar. He is a Huguenot. 

Guise. And the dispensation has not yet arrived. 

Charles. You, too, against me, Guise, with Anjou? 
what mischief are you plotting ? Get you gone, girl, 
and prepare to receive your lover. 

Mar. But Sire 

Charles. S'death ! Did you not hear me? My 
only bad subjects are in my own family. Get you 
gone. [Margot retires slowly. 

Guise. I leave your Majesty to — your Huguenots. 
When your Majesty has need of your loyal Catholics 
the Guise shall be the first to join you. 

[Guise bows low and retires with De Besme. 

Cath. [Going to Charles, lays her hand on his arm.] 
You are imprudent, my son. You fawn on these 
heretics until even I know not if you are sincere. 
You relent? 

Charles. [Throwing off his mother's hand.] Relent! 
God's death, mother! have I forgot my ride in Gas- 
cony — the desolation, the bare monasteries, the bro- 
ken altars, the mutilated saints? I even saw a dog, a 
mongrel, with a rosary for a collar. A godless land 



io Henry of Navarre 

where not a mass was heard from morn to night. It 
chilled me to the heart. 

Tav. The time has come for vengeance. Paris is 
prepared. You have but to say the word and the 
Huguenots will be exterminated. 

Charles. [Half to himself.] Dead, all dead. I like 
Harry and Rochefoucauld, and they would be dead. 

Cath. You consent, my son? 

Charles. Wait, wait until the marriage has dis- 
armed them. [Cunningly.] Beside, mother, if I cut 
down Navarre the Guise will grow too tall. Come, 
Tavannes, they worry me with statecraft. I '11 work 
in the smithy until dinner. [As he reaches door, 
turns.] Anjou, you are heir to the crown, you can 
look after Harry. [Looks at Anjou, chuckling. Anjou 
at the word "smithy" puts his handkerchief to his nose. 
Charles, seeing the action, snatches it and smelling it 
throws it angrily away.] Faugh! You smell like 
Ruggieri's perfumery. I '11 to my horses. 

[Laughs and exits. 

Cath. [Looking after Charles.] Blind! Blind! He 
will not see. The stars have said it, the Bearnais shall 
reign. [Fiercely.] But he shall not. Ruggieri will 
help me. I would go to the rack willingly if I knew 
the Bearnais were dead. 

Enter Ruggieri, stands motionless. 

Cath. [Sees Ruggieri.] Ruggieri, have you recast 
the horoscope? 

Rug. As you did direct. It is as my father said. 
Three sons of Catherine shall reign and after that 
the Bearnais. 

Cath. Always the same! Navarre, the Bearnais. 
Did you consult the omens? 



Act I. ii 

Rug. As you commanded. Always the three 
cries symbolic of three deaths. 

Cath. Charles, Anjou, and Alencon, always the 
same. But there 's still the mirror, Ruggieri. 

Rug. It would tell the same tale, my art cannot 
lie. 

Cath. You could show us the Bearnais in the 
mirror crowned and King of France. [To Anjou.] I 
have it. Ruggieri, you shall show your power before 
the King and the whole court. [To Anjou, tri- 
umphantly.'] The Bearnais crowned! Charles will 
go mad and kill him where he stands. 

Anjou. He would kill me, his own brother, if he 
thought I coveted the crown. We have the fox at 
last, mother. Farewell. I must meet de Guise and 
practice my dance this evening. [Exit Anjou. 

Cath. [To Ruggieri.] You have the — the other 
things I spoke of? [Ruggieri silently hands a phial.] 
You have made a mistake, the phial is empty. 

Rug. There is enough to kill ten men in that small 
phial, and yet it is invisible to sight as it is to taste, 

Cath. Navarre shall drink it in the rarest vinatge. 
Ay, and his bride shall hand it to him. 

Rug. If this should fail, there are subtler things, 
the smoke 

Cath. The smoke? 

Rug. [Gives her powder.] Throw this powder on 
the fire, and within ten minutes every living thing 
in the room will be dead. Ten minutes more the 
smoke will have vanished and only death will remain. 

Cath. I like it well. The winecup and the per- 
fumed glove are left behind, but the smoke vanishes. 
You are a genius, Ruggieri, yet no man loves you. 
Even the King fears you, and Henry of Navarre has 



12 Henry of Navarre 

sworn your death. Men say that you killed his 
mother with a pair of perfumed gloves. 

Rug. [Bowing.] Which your Majesty presented 
to her. 

Cath. Ah, have no fear, Ruggieri, for I still need 
you, but avoid the Bearnais. 

Enter Margot and Marie. 

My daughter must suspect nothing, come. 

[They go behind tapestry and disappear through 
private door. 

Mar. Marie, what shall I do. Charles forgets he 
is my brother and remembers only he is the King. 

Marie. Have comfort, Madame ; the King of 
Navarre may not be so bad. He fought bravely at 
Jarnac and Moncontour. 

Mar. He was born with teeth in his mouth and 
bit his nurses. A Gascon, a savage. At his birth 
his grandfather put a clove of garlic between his lips, 
and weaned him on Cahors wine. He can hunt and 
fight ; I doubt if he can read. 

Marie. They say the Gascons are most ardent 
lovers. 

Mar. I doubt he will not lack for compliments, 
but I know them all by heart. Oh, if I could only 
meet a man. 

Marie. There are many at court. 

Mar. They love the princess, not the woman. 
Once for a moment 

Marie. Once 

Mar. [Dreamily.'] I was leaning from my case- 
ment watching the crowd below. The sunshine 
flooded the street and warmed my blood. I laughed, 
Marie, laughed with the joy of living. Then from the 



Act I. 13 

crowd below two eyes shone into mine. My cheek 
warmed, I turned my face away. [Pause.] I looked 
again, they had gone. But always when I dream 
these eyes, like two stars, look at up me again, and 
I know somewhere, somehow there lives a man who 
loves me, even if I were the lowliest born in France. 
[Sighing.] That is when I dream, Marie. 

Marie. The King of Navarre is a man. They 
say he will march until his men drop and then order 
music and dance alone. 

Mar. I hope he may dance alone. He may be 
a great marcher, but he seems in no hurry to visit me. 

Marie. He is playing tennis with M. de Mouhy. 

Mar. Playing tennis with M. de Mouhy! They 
told me he was robing to meet me. 

Marie. He had on a olack riding habit; I caught 
a glimpse of him. 

Mar. A black riding habit! 
Enter Page. 

Page. The King of Navarre waits upon her High- 
ness's pleasure. 

Mar. Tell the King I will receive him here. 

[Exit Page. 

Mar. [To Marie.] In ten mintues. 

Marie. Ten minutes! 

Mar. In ten minutes, and then mayhap he '11 
have to wait. So he plays tennis while I wait for 
him. I '11 teach this Gascon gentleman a lesson. He 
wears plain black when he comes a-courting, thinks 
only of his mother when he woos a wife. I shall be 
back shortly, Marie. You can entertain this budding 
Amadis ! 

Marie. But, Madame, where are you going? 



14 Henry of Navarre 

Mar. I 'm going to change my dress. [Going 
to door.] 

[Margot exits through door in tapestry. 

Enter Page. 

J 

Page. King Henry of Navarre! 

Enter Henry in an old rusty black riding habit with 

De Mouhy. He enters with a -flourish, after a 

quick look at tapestry, knowing that Margot has 

just left. He seizes Marie's hand and kisses it. 

Henry. Your devoted servant, fair mistress. 

Marie. Your Majesty, Sire, I 'm not the Princess. 

Henry. [Glancing at tapestry.] I '11 not believe 
it: was I not told the fairest maid in France — come, 
kiss me, sweetheart. 

Marie. The Princess will join you shortly, Sire. 

Henry. [Loudly. She need not hurry when she 
leaves so fair a subst* ute. What is your name, child? 

Marie. Marie Bell f oret. 

Henry. A very pretty name too, Marie. I christen 
it. [Kisses her on lips.] 

Marie. Oh, Sire, you must not. 

Henry. What! are my »s so rough, or is kissing 
out of fashion ? 

Marie. Sire, it is wrong. 

Henry. Never you believe it, Marie, unless I tell 
you so. I have tried it and I know. 

Marie. Sire, you are a Huguenot. 

Henry. There is no heresy in love, Marie, unless 
it is to be old and ugly. [Goes to kiss her again, but 
she restrains him by placing her hand over his mouth.] 

Marie. [Smiling.] Must I tell your Majesty he 
is ugly? 

Henry. A hit, Marie, a hit! But spare me the 



Act I. 15 

truth. It is almost the only thing in which the court 
remembers I am a king. There, I '11 not kiss you, 
Marie. 

Marie. And I '11 not say your Majesty is ugly. 
Your Highness saved me a falsehood from confession 
when I meet Father Manson. 

Henry. You flatter, child ; must you confess the 
kiss? 

Marie. Nay, that is on your Majesty's conscience. 

Henry. Mordieu, Marie, I thought it was on your 
lips. 

Marie. Sire, your generosity has already forgotten 
it. 

Henry. As you will, Marie. I 've forgotten it, 
though, faith, I 'd like to refresh my memory. [Goes 
toward her, she backs away holding back her hands to 
keep him off.] What a prim lit e' rosebud to find at 
court among the famous Flyir Squadron. If your 
mistress had but your modesty and half your wit 
I had not been so long a-comirig. What is she doing, 
Marie? 

Marie. She is attiring herself, Sire. 

Henry. [Makes gestu- of skirts about himself.] 
We poor countrymen ar co be dazzled. 

Marie. The Princess has lovely dresses, Sire. 

Henry. Devil a kiss I '11 get from her, De Mouhy 
— her robe will take half the room. 

[Marie curtsies and exits. 
[All this time De Mouhy has stood in the back- 
ground gazing in silent admiration at Marie, 
in half indignation at his master. He now 
comes forward. 

De M. Is this wise, Sire? 

Henry. Is what wise, De Mouhy? 



16 Henry of Navarre 

De M. We are surrounded by enemies. Our 
live? hang on a thread. Will you force the Princess 
into their ranks? 

Henry. Mordieu, I came to marry her. 

De M. And you start by kissing her maid. 

Henry. And a very good start, too. She 's 
pretty; would n't you have kissed her too, De Mouhy? 

De M. You mistake her for the mistress. 

Henry. Mistake! Nonsense, man. The Princess 
kept us waiting to flout us. Mistake! I know her 
every feature. What thought you of our reception? 

De M. The King was gracious and the courtiers 
smiled. 

Henry. But Paris, our good Paris, would have 
torn us to pieces. You heard their song. [Sings a 
snatch of the song.] "Every street shall be a grave. " 
[Makes gesture of cutting throat.] A word from Cousin 
Charles would cut* our throats. Do you think I am 
fooled? No. Charles would massacre us all to- 
morrow but that it would make the Guise all-powerful. 
He hates the Huguenots, but he fears the Guise. 

De M. Then why trust yourself here? why not 
stay in Beam? 

Henry. A man can die but once, and there are 
precipices in Beam. I came here because I love 
the danger, to pit my head against Catherine's, and 
to be frank, De Mouhy, I am in love. 

De M. In love! And you come to marry Mar- 
guerite. 

Henry. Because, my dear old slow-head, I am in 
love with Marguerite. 

De M. You 've never seen her since she was a 
child at Blois. 

Henry. When she pulled my hair! [Laughs.] 



Act I. 17 

Mordieu! She had spirit and beauty even then, for 
all she was a girl all arms and legs. She has blos- 
somed since. Francois Clouet sent me her picture. 
I used to look at it for hours, until the eyes grew soft 
and the blush reddened on the cheek. But it could n't 
speak, De Mouhy, so I went all the way from Gascony 
to hear her voice. 

De M. You went all the way from Gascony? 

Henry. Yes, and I was missing for a month. They 
said I was gone hunting. I went to Paris. I saw 
her for just one minute, De Mouhy, the sunlight in her 
hair, the shadow deep in her eyes, and I heard her 
laugh, De Mouhy, just once, that was all. 

De M. You love her ! 

Henry. In the morning and in the evening, when 
I wake and when I sleep. 

De M. She is a Valois. 

Henry. I know, but though Charles is a madman, 
Anjou a fop, and Alencon a weaKling, Marguerite is 
a Marguerite indeed, a white star with a heart of gold. 

De M. And you woo her in an old riding habit and 
start by keeping her waiting. 

Henry. Ventre St. Gris! De Mouhy, you 're all 
right in a battle, but heaven help you as a cavalier. 
She has been pampered and surfeited by praises. 
Is she to be won by compliment? No, no, she thinks 
us Gascons savages. I humour her. 

De M. The maid will tell her you kissed her. 

Henry. I meant her to, she saw it. 

De M. Saw it! 

Henry. Yes, she forgets that in the mountains 
we have the ears of a fox and the eyes of an eagle. 
I saw the tapestry rustle, I caught the glimpse of a 
face, my heart beat quickly, and I kissed Marie. 



1 8 Henry of Navarre 

De M. Jealousy is not love, Sire. 

Henry. No, but it comes either before or after. 
I 'm afraid, De Mouhy, you are so serious, in your 
case it will come after. 

De M. My wife will have no cause for jealousy. 
[Stiffly.] 

Henry. No, man, it is you who will be jealous. 

De M. I don't understand women, but I should n't 
insult my mistress by wooing her in mourning in my 
oldest raiment. 

Henry. [Takes off his hat and looks at it, passing 
finger through broken rim.] The hat is somewhat 
rusty and the rim a trifle broken. I doffed it so often 
as we rode through Paris — there was a saint at every 
corner. 

De M. Your subjects would have grieved for you. 
It is a sin for a Huguenot to uncover before a graven 
image. 

Henry. It is a greater sin for a Gascon to uncover 
before a lady even though she be a saint. St. Agnes, 
St. Catherine, St. Genevieve [Throws a kiss] — I love 
them all, and, ventre St. Gris, when I passed St, 
Anthony I looked the other way. Mordieu, the Prin- 
cess keeps us waiting : shall we get back to tennis, De 
Mouhy ? 

De M. If we were wise we should go to Beam. 
You can see the avalanche and the landslip, in Paris 
the peril is hidden. 

Henry. You are a cheerful companion, De Mouhy, 
you '11 become popular in Paris — at funerals. It is 
well we are alone. [Ruggieri steps from tapestry.] 

Rug. A king should know that in a palace one is 
never alone. 

De M. [Hand on sword.] Are you a friend? 



Act I. 19 

Henry. Who are you? 

Rug. Cosmo Ruggieri. 

Henry. [Drawing sword, De Mouhy also.] The 
Queen's poisoner! 

Rug. The Queen's perfumer would sound better. 

Henry. The Queen's executioner. 

Rug. If you will have it so. 

Henry. Are you mad to venture here like this? 
Do you not know that I have sworn your death? 

Rug. Yes, but you will not kill me. You are 
young, you love, and you wish to live. [Folds his 
arms.] I am alone, Sire, I am unarmed, and all men 
hate me. Strike me if you will, but when you kill 
me your own doom is sealed. 

Henry. My dead mother's soul calls out for 
vengeance. 

Rug. You wrong me, Sire, I did not kill your 
mother. It is said I sent your mother death in a 
pair of perfumed gloves. 

Henry. Ay, she died within the week. 

Rug. It is false. Jeanne d'Albret would not wear 
gloves with perfume, it was an abomination to her. 
It was like incense, a thing accursed. 

Henry. That is true, De Mouhy. 

Rug. Look from this window, Sire. You see the 
river sparkling in the sun? Its exhalations cause 
more death each year than poison in an age. Did 
she herself not write and warn you against Paris? 

Henry. That is so, but how came you to know it? 

Rug. It was I who told you Paris was bad for you, 
but I was not thinking of your health. 

Henry. [Puts up sword.] Why do you tell me 
this? What do you here with the King of Navarre' 
you that serve the Medici? 



20 Henry of Navarre 

Rug. I serve the stars whose messenger I am. 
Night after night I watch their quiet faces and read 
their distant secrets. Catholic or Huguenot — differ- 
ences of the day ; the silent stars care not, what they 
write remains. 

Henry. [Interested in spite of himself.] What have 
they writ? 

Rug. One thing they spell clearly. The Bearnais 
shall be King. Three sons of Catherine, and then 
Navarre. Francois is dead. Charles reigns now, 
then Anjou, then you. You will be King. 

Henry. King! King! Ay, so I am already. A 
few houses and a wilderness . 

Rug. Nay you shall be a king without a peer in 
France, but the road is rough and broken and danger 
lurks by the way. 

Henry. I was born on the flank of a precipice. 
I care not how difficult the road, how fierce the peril, 
if France be at the end. 

Rug. Courage alone will never win the goal: you 
must have cunning, Sire. 

Henry. Am I not a Gascon, Ruggieri? 

Rug. Ay, but you fight an Italian. 

Henry. Tell me what are these dangers, Ruggieri? 

Rug. I see them yet but dimly, but first beware 
of wine. 

Henry. I will, Ruggieri, I '11 be rid of it as quickly 
as I may. 

Rug. You laugh, but the cup that cheers you to- 
day may bring you the great silence to-morrow. Be- 
ware of fire when the sun is still warm and summer 
lingers. 

Henry. You see that scar, Ruggieri? A burnt 
child. I shall not forget. 



Act I. 21 

Rug. Sometimes the smoke is deadlier than the 
flame. And beware of the fourth Sunday in August. 

Henry. I always beware of Sundays, Ruggieri; 
it 's a dull day with us Huguenots. 

Rug. Will your Majesty accept a gift from so 
humble a friend as the poor astrologer? [Hands him 
a ring.] 

Henry. An opal. Look, De Mouhy! Ventre St. 
Gris! Saw you ever the like? It is alive: see, it 
gleams with the fire of Etna. 

Rug. There 's magic in it. It is blood red — place 
it near poison, it grows green as grass. That stone 
is worth a throne. 

Henry. And you would part with it? You are 
more generous than a king. 

Rug. I give it to make one, to win a king for a 
friend. [Finger to lips, disappears through tapestry. 

De M. I like it not. The Florentines, they wish 
to rouse your ambition. This is some snare of 
Catherine's to trap you. 

Henry. I shall be King of France, De Mouhy, the 
stars have said it. 

De M. And Ruggieri reads them. Who shall 
judge between him and them? 

Henry. My own heart, De Mouhy. I feel it here 
[touching breast] and here [touching head]. The heart 
to dare and the brain to achieve. 

Enter Page. 

Page. Her Highness, the Princess Marguerite. 

De M. I will leave you, Sire. I must see Taille- 

bois, and get the latest tidings. [Exit De Mouhy. 

Enter Marguerite and ladies of the court. Margot 

has an enormous farthingale, the others smaller 



22 Henry of Navarre 

ones. Margot evidently expects Henry to rush 
to her feet — as he did — and be overwhelmed. He is 
turned away, hat on, as if he did not hear her enter. 

Mar. Leave me, Marie, I '11 teach the Gascon 
boor a lesson. [Aloud to Henry.] Your servant, your 
Majesty. 

[Henry turns, sees farthingale, and roars 
with laughter. Margot, disconcerted, 
draws herself up proudly. 
You are amused, Sire; you do not laugh at us? 

Henry. Mordieu! I laugh because I must. My 
mother laughed when I first saw the light. I was 
born laughing and I have laughed ever since. Ventre 
St. Gris, we all laugh at Nerac. When you get there, 
Margot, you '11 laugh too. 

Mar. Then I trust my brother will keep us near 
his person. He will not want to part with you now 
that he has got you. 

Henry. He holds me dear and well I know it, 
Margot. Forgive me, cos, I laughed only because of 
Nerac. My poor palace is not so large as the Louvre 
and my doors will hardly admit [making gesture of 
farthingale] so much fashion. 

Mar. [Complacently.] Mine is the largest farthin- 
gale in France. Tell me, are Pau and Nerac as small 
and wild as our courtiers say? 

Henry. [Bowing awkwardly.] Your courtiers are 
jealous that Nerac is to have so fair a mistress. 

Mar. [Clapping her hands.] A compliment! A 
compliment from the Bearnais! 

Henry. [Innocently.] I was told you would like 
that if I said it. 

Mar. Um-m-m. [Indicating hat.] They are not 
all as rude at N£rac as might appear. 



Act I. 23 

Henry. [Taking no notice of what she has said 
about the hat.] N£rac is a bit wild but it is my home. 
It hangs on the valley, the mountains frown on it, and 
the keen winds keep it clean. True in the winter, 
when the ways are blocked with snow, the wolves 
howl in the streets and the bears prowl by the door 
But no Bearnais minds that. 

Mar. [Horrified.] Bears in the streets! 

Henry. Sometimes only wolves. You '11 grow to 
laugh at it when you are a Bearnaise. 

Mar. The savages! 

Henry. [With affected simplicity.] Did you not 
know? I thought you knew everything in Paris, 
Margot most of all. 

Mar. In Paris men know better than to wear a 
hat in the presence of a woman. 

Henry. [Laughing uproariously.] To think I had 
forgotten it. In Beam we don't wear hats at all, no, 
nor boots either. Bareheaded and barefooted was 
my training. [Looks at boots.] These hurt me 
plaguily, and give me corns. I 've had a long ride, 
and with your permission, cos [kicks his boots off, 
takes the King's chair, and sprawls]. That 's better. 
Don't you sit, cos, or [gesture of farthingale] does the 
fashion forbid it? 

Mar. I should sit, only [looks around] there is no 
seat. In Beam do people sit upon the floor? 

Henry. Ay, some prefer it, but there 's always a 
chair for the King, and if you please me, Margot, you 
shall have one too. Oh, we '11 have great days when we 
get back to Nerac. You shall not find it dull, Margot. 

Mar. Is it so full of pleasures? 

Henry. Nothing but gaiety from morn to night. 
Out of bed early we greet the morning sun. 



24 Henry of Navarre 

Mar. Yes? 

Henry. Then we hunt. Then back to breakfast: 
milk, biscuits, and sour cheese. 

Mar. Then? 

Henry. Then we hunt until dinner. 

Mar. Oh, you do have dinner? 

Henry. Ay [smacking his lips]. Cheese and garlic 
and a flask of Cahors wine. If we have killed aught 
in the chase, mordieu, we eat that too. 

Mar. And — after dinner? 

Henry. Why, then we hunt. No napping in the 
afternoons at Xerac. Then home to supper, and 
tired and happy we steal off to bed. 

Mar. Oh. [Pause.] Do you nought but hunt in 
Gascony? 

Henry. Ventre St. Gris! The men swear and the 
women sometimes dance. 

Mar. Then I shall dance — if ever I get there — 
from sunset till sunrise. 

Henry. Not in Beam. From sunrise to sunset as 
often as you will. But candles are scarce in Beam. 

Mar. And the long winter evenings, when the 
night falls? 

Henry. Why, then we sleep. We are simple 
folk, so we sleep soundly. 

Mar. You are a strange suitor, cos, you do not 
promise much. 

Henry. [With just a serious touch in his voice.] 
But I '11 give more. 

Mar. Are wooers all so ardent in Beam? 

Henry. I know not, I seek my wife in Paris. 
[Seriously.] Margot, King Charles has matched us. 
[Suddenly changing.] Ventre St. Gris! 'T is he should 
do the wooing. [Putting on boots.] What say you, 



Act I. 25 

cos, are we to bill and coo because he makes us wed ? 
Let 's be good comrades. Faith, I '11 not hate you 
though you be my wife. 

Mar. [Frankly.] Nor I you, though I hope you '11 
not be my husband. Tell me, cos, what think you of 
our Paris? 

Henry. Tell me first what Paris thinks of me. 

Mar. Paris is Catholic. 

Henry. I answer, I am a Huguenot. 

Mar. But the palaces, the churches, the hotels, 
are they not wonderful? And there's the court, 
and — and — what think you of our women? 

Henry. Oh, some of them are young and most of 
them have arms and legs. 

Mar. [Looking at him intently.'] Come, cousin, 
you have eyes — are they not beautiful? 

Henry. [Looking ardently at her.] I have seen 
one that is so beautiful that only Ronsard could 
paint her, and he not do her justice. 

Mar. Ah! [Turning away.] What is her name? 

Henry. Her name? [Looking at Margot.] I have 
forgot, she is a maid in the Palace. 

Mar. A maid! How dare you, Sire! 

Henry. Why, cos, what ails you? May not a 
maid be beautiful in Paris? Now in Beam 

Mar. I will not hear you, I 'm sick of your 
Beam. 

Henry. In Beam the women have feet like — like — 

Mar. [Coquettishly showing feet.] Like that? 

Henry. [Looks at them and forgets himself.] Ex- 
quisite ! 

Mar. You think so? 

Henry. [Pulling himself together.] They are charm- 
ing. You certainly have good bootmakers in Paris. 



26 Henry of Navarre 

Mar. [Infuriated.] Bootmakers! What think you 
of the foot? 

Henry. I find no fault with it, but they have 
bigger in Beam. 

Mar. Oh, they are giants there. 

Henry. Not that neither. Not one of them could 
fill a dress like yours. 

Mar. A dress like mine! Do you take this for 
me? [Gesture showing that the dress is all spring 
underneath.] 

Henry. And I thought it was real. 

Mar. Cos, I begin to think you are a fool. 

Henry. They said so in Beam when I set out for 
Paris. But you shall teach me better, you that are 
the wisest woman in France. 

Mar. You have heard something of Marguerite 
in your country. 

Henry. Mordieu! Yes, they told me you knew 
so much that I was half afraid of you. 

Mar. Is wisdom in a woman such a terrible thing? 

Henry. I was afraid you had worn out your eyes 
reading. 

Mar. [Looking him fairly in the eyes.] Are they 
so dull and faded, Henry? 

Henry. [Carried away.] Mar — they — are — 
[Breathlessly.] No wonder that the Guise worshipped 
you. Ronsard was right. They are — they are 

Mar. Yes ? 

Henry. [Recovering.] I am glad that I did not 
wager, they are not crooked after all. 

Mar. [In a rage.] Crooked! Crooked! You mon- 
ster, how dare you! 

Henry. Yet I was right when I told De Mouhy 
that your voice was loud. 



Act I. 27 

Mar. Oh, this is intolerable. [Drawing herself 
up.} Sire, let me pass. 

Henry. What! Would you leave me before we 
are married? Even in Paris that is not the fashion. 

Mar. Your wedding will find you grey if you 
wait to marry me. 

Henry. Not so fast, cos; though the man who 
marries you may soon be bald, I 've not forgotten 
yet how you pulled my hair at Blois. 

Mar. I should like to pull it now. 

Henry. [Laughing.'] I believe you would. And 
pray, what stops you, Margot. [Suddenly laughing.] 
You have n't forgotten how I boxed your ears. You 
keep them covered still I see. [Margot has put her 
hands over her ears. Henry comes nearer her now.] 
I should n't box them now. I should just kiss you, 
Margot. 

Mar. That you shall never do. Let the King, 
my brother, do his worst, I shall never wed save of 
my own good will. 

Henry. Nor shall you, cos, but your good will 
shall be for me. I can see you already love me, 
cousin, and when I have wooed you a little longer — 

Mar. [Laughing bitterly.] Wooed me, wooed met 
is this how you make love? are there naught but 
brutes in Gascony? 

Henry. The men in Gascony are what the women 
make them; there are no truer lovers in the world. 
Farewell, cos, you shall know me better yet. [Bows 
to go.] Farewell. [As he goes drops paper as if by 
accident.] 

Mar. You dropped something. [Picks it up.] 

Henry. [With pretended nervousness.] Give it me 
— nay, but you must not read that. 



28 Henry of Navarre 

Mar. Oh, but I will. I warrant it is to your mis- 
tress. You, too, can love, ay, and write verses as 
well. 

Henry. Give me the paper. 

Mar. [Puts it behind her.] Nay, I '11 know your 
mistress's name, why you find Margot so plain a thing- 
Confess it is your mistress. 

Henry. If you insist on reading it, it were useless 
to deny it. 

Mar. [Reads.] 

"A thousand stars the nights unfold, 
A thousand flowers are at my feet, 
But mine the flower with heart of gold, 
My splendid Marguerite." 

My splendid Marguerite! [Pauses.] I didn't know. 
This is your writing? 

Henry. Yes, we do write, even in Beam. 

Mar. [Looking at him.] I don't quite understand. 

Henry. [Tenderly.] No, dear Margot, people don't 
understand everything even in Paris. 

Mar. I have much to learn. Will you not teach 
me, cos? How does a man make love in Gascony? 

Henry. [Tenderly.] As if the world had vanished 
and he saw ever and always naught but his lady's face. 
I knew a boy in Gascony — he was scarce more — who 
fell in love with a fair lady's picture. Day after day 
he gazed upon her face, made her his saint, and said 
his prayers before her, until one day he longed to 
hear her voice. Mounting his horse he rode both 
night and day, scarce sleeping and scarce eating, 
through flooded ford and arid plain, through the 
forest and the pestilence, laughing at danger, hunger, 
and fatigue, until he came to Paris and looked upon 



Act I. 29 

his love. She was standing at her window, the sun- 
shine in her hair, the shadow in her eyes, laughter 
upon her lips, while all the joy of living gave beauty 
to her face. 

Mar. And she was glad that he could love her so, 
and gave him all her heart? 

Henry. He did but hear her laugh and rode away. 
That laugh rings in his ears now. 

Mar. He should have spoken, he should not have 
robbed her of such love. 

Henry. [Sadly.] Her mother hated him, her 
brother sought his life. 

Mar. [Proudly.] She would not have cared. 
Mother and brother, all must give way to love. What 
was her name? 

Henry. Ner name was Marguerite. 

Mar. She was Marguerite, too. 

Henry. She was Marguerite, too. [Looking into 
her eyes.] She was a princess of France. Farewell, 
Mademoiselle, I see you pity him ; he should not have 
looked so high. Farewell, Mademoiselle. [Going. 

Mar. Sire! [She has stood all this time trying to 
recall a memory.] 

Henry. [Returning.] Princess! 

Mar. [Slowly. ] You were that boy; it was you 
who measured half the length of France, who loved 
and asked for nothing. Such love is rare at court. 
I have waited long days to see your face again. 
[Henry looks at her, she bows her head.] Oh, Sire! 
[She then takes a step towards him, when enter 
Marie.] 

Marie. Pardon, Mademoiselle, the Queen-Mother 
requests your presence at once. 

Henry. The Queen-Mother awaits you, Princess. 



30 Henry of Navarre 

Mar. [Still looking at Henry.] Let the Queen- 
Mother wait. 

Marie. [Horrified.] But, Madame 

[Margaret motions her away, and waits till 
she has left ; then she turns with outstretched 
hands to Henry. 

Henry. Margot! [Takes her hands, about to draw 
her into his arms, when enter De Mouhy pale and 
agitated. 

De M. Sire, Sire! [Stops at seeing Margot. 

Henry. [Not looking at De Mouhy, annoyed at this 
interruption.] Well, De Mouhy, what is it? 

Mar. I will leave you now, Sire, but will return. 

[Exit. 

Henry. [Watching her off.] What is it, De 
Mouhy? 

De M. Sire, Sire, come! we must go at once. 
Quick! there is not a moment to be lost. 

Henry. [At last looking at De Mouhy.] What 's 
the matter man ? I never saw you look so pale, is the 
plague broke out? 

De M. Ay, one that will choose its victims, one 
that the mass alone will cure. Read that, Sire. 

Henry. Who is this from? 

De M. From Cardinal Pelve to the Cardinal of 
Lorraine, our worst enemy. Read, Sire, read. 

Henry. [Reads.] "At last we have them in the 
trap. We only need the King's consent, and not a 
Huguenot will wake in Paris." Then I was right, De 
Mouhy. The marriage was a snare for me and a 
snare for all my brethren. This is Catherine's work. 
[Suddenly remembering.] My God! is Margot in it, 
does she know? 



Act I. 31 

De M. There is more — you have n't finished the 
letter. 

Henry. {Continues reading.} " Margot loathes this 
marriage but for the good of the cause she will con- 
sent." Consent! Consent! Consent to what! My 
God! will she give herself to lure us all to ruin? I '11 
not believe it. She looked into my eyes with the 
glance of a child. I '11 not believe it. 

De M. What matters it? Taillebois and half a 
dozen stout blades are waiting with fresh horses. 
You can see them from this window. They will wait 
until the clock strikes six. Come, Sire, the day wears 
on. 

Henry. And my friends Coligny, La Rochefou- 
cauld 

De M. We can leave them warning. 

Henry. The moment I go the Catholics will be 
alarmed. There will be a massacre and I shall have 
given the signal for the death of my friends. 

De M. They would die to save you, Sire, and your 
death cannot help them. Quick, the hand is on the 
hour. Taillebois will ride at six. Come, Sire. 

Henry. [Firmly.'] I will not leave my friends. 

De M. You will be killed. 

Henry. I care not. It is better to die once than 
to live fearing death. [Looking towards door where 
Margot left.] Does she know? Does she know? 

De M. Come, Sire. 

[At that moment Margot' s voice heard singing. 

Henry. No, I stay. 

[The clock strikes six slowly. A pause. De 
Mouhy looks at Henry with an imploring 
gesture. Horse's hoofs heard starting, then 



32 Henry of Navarre 

get fainter and fainter. Margot's voice still 
heard singing. Curtain comes down slowly 
as Henry, still looking towards Margot's 
door, says " Does she know? Does she 
know? " 

[Curtain.] 



ACT II. 

Room in the Louvre, panelling, tapestry, second room 
showing through tapestry. Centre opening. 

[Due de Guise and Due d'Anjou discovered. 
Catherine makes an entrance with her 
women, who at a sign from her retire. 
Guise. Well, Madame, I have waited, waited for 
a month, and with what result? The marriage is 
accomplished, and the Huguenots more firmly estab- 
lished than ever. The King grows fonder of them 
every day. 

Cath. Appears to grow fonder of them, M. le Due. 
Anjou. Nay, mother, Guise is right. These here- 
tics have bewitched Charles. 

[Song in distance heard through open window: 

"Grind the sword and melt the lead, 
Grind the sword and count the dead. 
The Huguenots shall die."] 

Guise. You hear the people? Paris is getting out 
of hand at our festivities. The monks preach treason 
in the streets. The Huguenots laugh at our saints, 
and sing their godless songs outside our churches. 
Let the King look to it, he is half suspected of heresy 
himself. 

Cath. Nay, good Guise, give me to-night. If by 
to-night Navarre be not stricken in the dust I place 
myself in your hands. 

Guise. And see, Madame, you do not trifle with 

2 33 



34 Henry of Navarre 

me. The Huguenots say freely you dare not touch 
Navarre lest the Guise should be too great. 

Cath. [Rising.] You are too arrogant, M. le Due. 
The King has no rival. But the Huguenots shall die. 
When Ruggieri foretold that Henry of Navarre should 
be King he pronounced his death. 

Guise. An old man's tale. There are thirty 
thousand astrologers and each says what he wills. 
But my dead father's blood still calls for vengeance, 
and Coligny shall die to-morrow if I kill him with 
my own hands. And there is no King in France, no, 
nor in the world that shall stop me. If the King is 
afraid I will raise Paris myself. I am the Guise. 
Think over it well, Madame. I '11 to the King and 
tell him he must choose between Paris and the Hu- 
guenots, between his throne and Henry of Navarre. 
I take my leave. [Exit. 

Cath. [Passionately.] The insolent, the braggart, 
that he should speak so in the King's own palace and 
to the King's mother. 

Anjou. The marriage must be annulled. The 
Bearnais flouts us all. You know what the court 
says? 

Cath. Yes, that even on his wedding night he left 
my daughter with her ladies. 

Anjou. That this marriage is no marriage and 
Margot is still a maid. Why, mother, why? Henry 
is ardent, Margot is fair. Can he suspect her? 

Cath. Impossible. Besides, Margot is innocent, 
she knows nothing. 

Anjou. But your ladies, Charlotte de Sauve, La 
Belle Dayole, have they found out nothing? 

Cath. Henry makes love to all and loves none. 

Anjou. The Flying Squadron grows dull or old. 



Act II. 35 

Where does he spend his nights? He must love some 
one. Is that some one deceiving you? 

Cath. My women deceive me? They dare not! 
But I begin to fear this Bearnais. He laughs, always 
laughs, but he eludes my every snare. 

Anjou. He will not escape to-night. When Charles 
sees his form in the mirror he will not spare him. 
When he sees him crowned [rubbing his hands] he 
will kill him before our eyes. 

Cath. Yes, I can trust Ruggieri, he will not fail us. 

Enter Page. 

Page. The Queen of Navarre. 
Enter Margot. 

Cath. Ah, Margot, I have wanted to see you. 

Mar. I am always in the palace, Madame. 

Cath. Ay, but these dances, pageants, and masks 
so fill up the days that the hours seem too few. Tell 
me, child, are you happy? 

Mar. Why do you ask, Madame? 

Cath. Because my heart misgives me, Margot. 
You look pale and troubled. Were we right to force 
you into this marriage? 

Anjou. You wish to talk to Margot? Good-bye, 
sister, don't forget if you 're in trouble you have 
always your brother and your mother. Good-bye, 
mother. [Kisses her hand.] I '11 join the Guise and 
urge Charles to consent to his wishes. [Exit. 

Mar. [Throwing herself at her mother's feet.] Oh, 
mother, mother, what have I done that I should be so 
unhappy? 

Cath. [Patting her head.] There, there, child, don't 
agitate yourself. What 's done can't be undone. 

Mar. If he only loved me, mother. 



36 Henry of Navarre 

Cath. Perhaps he does. You 're excited, child, 
and you make too much of little things. 

Mar. Too much of little things! And you are 
my mother. [Starting to her feet.] Oh, if I were the 
lowliest woman in the kingdom he should not have 
flouted me so. To tell me he had traversed France 
alone to hear me say one word ! And then to leave 
me on my wedding night. Oh, that night! The 
maids nudged each other and laughed as their eyes 
grew wide with wonder, while I sat dry-eyed and 
amazed, weary and heartsick, until the dawn crept 
in. [Passionately.] Then I hated him, I, who had 
never known what hate had meant ! 

Cath. The marriage must be annulled. 

Mar. And I thought for a moment I that should 
be so happy, that I, a princess, was to be loved as a 
woman, just for what I am. And he fooled me. If 
I could only make him feel as I have felt, if I could 
only have him at my feet for one short minute and 
spurn him as I have been spurned. 

Cath. [Suddenly interested.] Why, child, you are 
jealous, you have loved the man. 

Mar. I hate him. 

Cath. You want him to love you? 

Mar. Yes, I want him to love me. I want to 
humiliate him as I have been humiliated. 

Cath. And you shall. 

Mar. There 's not a lady at court he admires less 
than me. 

Cath. He shall never look at them again. Give 
him this. [Gives Margot the bottle Ruggieri gave 
her in the first act.] 

Mar. [Looking at it.] Why it is empty. 

Cath. No, but it is clear as crystal. It is a love 



Act II. 3 7 

potion; Ruggieri prepared it for me. It never fails. 

It will make him true till death. 

Mar. May I taste it, mother? [Goes to open it.] 
Cath. [Quickly.] You must not open it. [Slowly.] 

It will lose its virtue. Ask your husband to toast 

you, put it in his wine, you will never complain of 

him again. But let it not leave your hand, child; it 

works only for the giver. 

Mar. Trust me, mother. If he but loves me I 

believe I shall forget I have ever been unhappy. 

Enter Marie. 

Cath. Now, child, look your loveliest; the dancers 
begin and Ruggieri is to show us the future. 

Mar. Ruggieri. I am afraid of him, but if he 
makes Henry love me I shall forget it. Good-bye, 
mother, I shall be gay now. [Exit. 

Cath. [Turning to Marie.] Well, child, what have 
you to tell me? 

Marie. Nothing, Madame. 

Cath. Nothing, nothing, have all my women lost 
their heads? 

Marie. The King of Navarre came with his gentle- 
men in the afternoon as usual, laughed, then yawned, 
then laughed and went away again. 

Cath. And you have no suspicion as to why he 
behaved so strangely? 

Marie. None, Madame. 

Cath. You 're stupid, child. [Enter De Mouhy.] 
Here is that dull fool, Henry's shadow; see if he 
knows aught. 

De M. [Coming up as Catherine finishes.] 

Cath. [Aside to Marie.] Task him with his mas- 
ter's infidelity. [Exit Catherine. 



38 Henry of Navarre 

Marie. [Looks at De Mouhy, who ftgdets, twists his 
hat around and generally looks nervous.] M. de Mouhy. 

De M. Mademoiselle. 

Marie. Do you never smile ? 

De M. [Smiles sickly and then looks serious again.] 
Sometimes. 

Marie. M. de Mouhy, I vow you 're very dull. 
Do you know you are alone with a very charming 
woman? 

De M. [Stolidly.] Well. 

Marie. [Going to him and looking up into his face.] 
Do you always wear those melancholy suits? Are 
you never gay? Why don't you follow your mas- 
ter's example? 

De M. [Grimly.] I will. [Seizes Marie in his 
arms and kisses her.] 

Marie. How dare you, M. de Mouhy, how dare 
you! 

De M. Well, you asked me to. 

Marie. Asked you to! I always thought you 
Huguenots spoke the truth. 

De M. You said follow Henry's example. 

Marie. I meant in dresses, in bearing. Tut, 
kis~ me! I would have you know a king has kissed 
these lips. 

De M. [Smacks his lips as if tasting kiss.] He was 
right. 

Marie. You know, M. de Mouhy, you 're not 
really as ugly as you look. 

De M. [Dazed.] Eh! 

Marie. If you were to have a ribbon here. [Takes 
off ribbon from her own neck.] A rosette there. [Pins 
rosette which she has taken from her own shoulder.] 
A shoulder-knot. [Pins hers on him.] And a red 



Act II. 39 

plume in your hat. [Takes hers off and pins it in 
his hat.] Ah, yes, and a sash, perhaps. [Takes off her 
sash.] Why, now, De Mouhy, you look quite a man. 
[All during this business De Mouhy stands quite stiff. 

De M. May I move ? 

Marie. One moment, your moustachios. [She 
curls them.] And the beard, ah, so, and now [Looking 
round gets scent from reticule.] 

De M. No, no, Mademoiselle, I cannot use scent. 

Marie. Why not? it is some of the Due d'Anjou's. 
Rene Bianci made it specially for him. 

De M. If it were made by the Queen herself I 'd 
not make a civet cat of myself. I 'm a plain soldier, 
Mademoiselle, and you must take me for what I 
am. 

Marie. I will, and I '11 make you what I like. 
[Sprinkles him with scent, he sniffs and makes faces. 
Gives him more.] Now smile, M. de Mouhy, smile, 
and you shall dance with me to-night. 

De M. I don't dance. 

Marie. Then you shall hold my hand while Rug- 
gieri shows us the future in the mirror. But you 
must learn, M. de Mouhy, I shall teach you. 

De M. [Looks at his feet.] Do you thinks the 
floor will stand them? 

Marie. [Looks at them, then up into his face.] 
They are very nice big feet. 

[De Mouhy tries to catch her, but she trips 
lightly across the stage, having run under 
his arm. 
Come, M de Mouhy, you see. Tram la, la, la, point 
your toes so. 

[De Mouhy tries to do the same, overbalances, 
and nearly turns over. Marie laughs. 



4o Henry of Navarre 

De M. I don't see why you laugh, it 's very seri- 
ous business. 

Marie. Now once more, M. de Mouhy, and I must 
go back and tell the Queen-Mother all you have told 
me of your master. 

De M. But I have n't told you anything. 

Marie. And you must n't. [Puts her finger on 
Up.] See? Then I shall not have to hide anything 
from Catherine, but if I know, I dare n't deceive her, 
M. de Mouhy, or I should die suddenly or go into 
a convent, which [looking at him archly]] would be 
worse. La, M. de Mouhy, don't look so serious. 
Be like your master — laugh, man, laugh. 

De M. When Henry laughs something is going to 
happen. 

Marie. Something is always going to happen, 
Monsieur Sour-face. Just now, you are going to try 
the dance with me. 

[They dance up and down, De Mouhy balancing 
awkwardly until he falls over. Marie 
catching him, he picks her up and kisses 
her, both laughing as Henry of Na- 
varre enters. 

Henry. Ha, ha, Marie, don't blush, you '11 shame 
the rest of the court. De Mouhy, De Mouhy, what 
will they say in Nerac? Don't go, Marie. Mordieu, 
I must have one too. No? Well, as you wish. The 
rascal, he said he stayed to be near me. Fie, Marie, 
fie ! [Exit Marie, turns quicjkly to De Mouhy.] What 
did you tell her, man? 

De M. Tell her? 

Henry. Tell her? Yes, tell her? Do you think 
she kisses you for your beauty? They all kiss me and 



Act II. 41 

I tell them — what I think Catherine ought to know. 

De M. Sire, you wrong her. 

Henry. Perhaps, but if I don't, she '11 wrong you. 

De M. She warned me, Sire, to tell her nothing, 
that the Queen-Mother would question her. 

Henry. Good girl, good girl. [Suddenly looking 
at De Mouhy and laughing.] Ventre St. Gris! Why, 
then she 's in love. 

De M. In love ! 

Henry. With you, old addlepate. It 's well to 
know whom we can trust. Listen. [Song in dis- 
tance; as it finishes Henry sings last line, making a 
gesture of cutting his throat.] "The Huguenots shall 
die." The Paris air is something strong, De Mouhy. 
[Yawns.] And Catherine does n't let one get much sleep. 

De M. Anything new, Sire? 

Henry. As I passed under a scaffold in the rue de 
Petit Moines, half a dozen bricks just missed my head. 
Even yours would n't have withstood them, De Mouhy. 

De M. An accident, Sire ! 

Henry. Perhaps, but under the workman's blouse 
I caught a glimpse of the Medici colours. [His voice 
suddenly catches.] Dure-dent is dead. 

De M. Your boarhound ! 

Henry. [Sadly, nodding his head.] Nothing in 
the world loved me so much. 

De M. Sire! [Falls on his knees and kisses Hen- 
ry's hand.] 

Henry. [Putting his hand on his shoulder.] Except 
you, old friend. [Pulls himself up and laughs.] I 
had a cask of Cahors wine sent me from Gascony. 
The King's wine [significantly] might not suit me. 
It got lost for a day in the palace on its arrival. 
When it was opened some of it spilled on the floor. 



42 Henry of Navarre 

De M. And the dog licked it up? 

Henry. [Nods.] He lived an hour. Catherine 
keeps busy. How she loves me, De Mouhy. She sent 
her carriage for me yesterday, the only one in Paris. 
It broke down in the rue des Ecoliers. 

De M. You were not hurt, Sire? 

Henry. No, I rode my horse, I put her gentleman 
in the carriage, he broke his neck. Duvre is dead. 
De Mouhy, the blow is going to fall. 

De M. What shall we do, Sire, do we stay? 

Henry. No, laugh, wait and laugh, and when the 
time comes, fall fighting. 

De M. Perhaps we are mistaken, Sire. 

Henry. Never you believe it, De Mouhy. [Sig- 
nificantly.] Bernard Palissy has left Paris. 

De M. What of it? A potter! 

Henry. A great genius, De Mouhy. Philibert de 
l'Orme has gone, and Germain Pilon, Catherine's 
architect, Huguenots all, don't you understand? 
Catherine and Charles can make dukes and princes, 
as many as they please, but only God can make artists 
and architects, and the Tuileries have to be built. 
No, the blow is going to fall. The Guise, Tavannes, 
D'Anjou, the Queen-Mother, they worry Charles both 
day and night. They only need to find him with a 
toothache, a corn that pinches, or an undigested 
dinner, and, mordieu, we are dead men. 

De M. And yet you laugh with the loudest, make 
love with the lightest. 

Henry. We 're sitting on a volcano ; if we don't 
laugh, mordieu, the crust will crack. Ventre St. 
Gris! Do you think I care for death, that comes in 
a minute, an hour, a day, and then is done ? I 'd give 
my life, my kingdom, my cause, if I could keep my 



Act II. 43 

honour and know my Margot true. That 's the hell 
I live in — doubt, suspicion, despair. Does my wife 
know? Is my Margot true? Ever since you brought 
me that letter the question has rapped on my brain 
minute by minute, hour by hour. Does Margot 
know? De Mouhy, it maddens me. I look into her 
eyes, I 'd pledge my soul that she and treachery have 
never met. Don't you see the damnable part of it? 
If it were only myself I would tell her the truth, but 
I can't betray my comrades. They are blind and live 
in a fool's paradise. The worst is I am throwing her 
into the Guise's arms. 

De M. I '11 cut his throat in the Palace. 

Henry. And have all Paris on us. The populace 
adore him. He is more than the pope to them. 

De M. If she be false ' 

Henry. Why, then, I '11 laugh, De Mouhy, laugh 
as they laugh in hell. 

De M. She may be true. 

Henry. Then not all the tears that first made ocean 
salt would wash out my remorse. 

Enter Ruggieri from tapestry, finger on lips. 

Rug. Sire! 

Henry. Ruggieri ! 

Rug. Beware, Sire, your first peril is to-night. 

Henry. Speak plainly, man, and tell me what 
there is to fear. 

Rug. Nay, I know not, but this morning a young 
maid watched the beryl stone. She saw you in the 
crystal in the midst of splendour and the dance, then 
a thisk mist wrapped you from sight. The danger is 
near, farewell. 

De M. By Heaven, you shall say more! [Draws 



44 Henry of Navarre 

sword, steps towards Ruggieri, Henry restrains him.] 
Speak plainly or I '11 spit you where you stand! 
[Breaks away, Ruggieri disappears behind tapestry, 
De Mouhy draws it and finds him gone.] The old con- 
jurer, has he vanished through the wall? 

Henry. Like enough. [Turning away.] I must 
find out the trick of that door. 

De M. Do you trust his warning? 

Henry. A warning should never be despised. 
[Tapping De Mouhy.] When Catherine hands the 
cup it is Ruggieri prepares the wine. [Laughs.] 
Why, man, so serious? Laugh, De Mouhy, laugh. This 
is a feast, not a funeral. 

De M. [Earnestly.] I have it, Sire. Only Charles 
stands between you and destruction. The stars say 
you will be King. When they show him the future 
in the mirror 

Henry. We shall laugh, De Mouhy. That was not all 
the prophecy. Did you ever see a hangman hang from 
his own rope, a hunter in the trap he dug for the bear? 

De M. I don't understand. 

Henry. [Chuckling.] You will, you will when 
you see Catherine to-night. 

Enter Charles. Guise is on one hand, Anjou on the 
other. Catherine and entire court follow, Tavan- 
nes, Biragues, La Rochefoucauld, La Belle 
Dayole, La Fosseuse, Marie, Charlotte de 
Sauve, Torigny and Margot. Margot comes 
left, where Guise talks to her during dance. Cur- 
tain at back opened so as to make both rooms one. 

Charles. Ah, Henry, come and sit by me. Anjou 
bores me with his politics, but you laugh and never 
ask for anything. 



Act II. 45 

Henry. Because I lack nothing, with my dear 
Margot here. [Passing by her.] What could a man 
want more? 

Charles. A great deal. [Wickedly.] Ask M. de 
Guise and my dear brother. What do you think they 
want? They want me to consent to — shall I tell 
him, Guise? Shall I ask his advice? 

Henry. Mordieu, no, I 'm sure they would n't like 
it. Give them their way, Sire, but don't ask counsel 
of me, or I shall be as dull as they. 

Charles. But they want me to 

Henry. Then do it, Sire. 

Charles. But you have n't heard what it is yet. 

Henry. I wasn't born for a king, Sire, I always 
say yes. 

Charles. Then you are always giving. 

Henry. No, Sire. I said yes till I had given all 
away; I have nothing to give, but I still say yes, so 
consent, Sire. 

Charles. If I did n't love you, Harry, I would n't 
wait a day. You don't know what you are saying. 

Henry. But you know, Sire, and while you love 
me I want to know no more. [Significantly.] I trust 
you, Sire. 

Charles. You shall. [Noise in streets; song, "The 
Huguenots shall die."] You hear my good Parisians, 
Harry? They love me as little as you. M. de Guise 
takes care of that. 

Guise. [Hotly.] Sire! 

Charles. A dance, a dance, this is no time for 
statecraft. [Waves De Guise aside.] Soon we will 
hear Ruggieri. 

[Dance. Every one laughing and talking. 
Towards finish Guise comes towards Mar- 



46 Henry of Navarre 

got. Guise and Margot dance alone. 
Scene played in whisper. 

Guise. When can I see you alone, Margot? 

Mar. You forget, I am a queen. 

Guise. Ay, Queen among queens, as you were 
always my queen of women, the unmatched flower, the 
Marguerite of France. When can I see you alone? 

Mar. Never, now. 

Guise. Never? Do you think such love as mine 
can always be kept at a distance? Nothing could 
long keep me from your side. 

Mar. I shall go south and put the Loire between 
us. 

Guise. I would swim it in deepest flood to look 
upon your face. 

Mar. At Nerac the castle walls are high. 

Guise. I would scale the mountains themselves to 
die in your arms. 

Mar. You might swim the river and scale the 
castle walls, but still I have a husband. 

Guise. A Huguenot, a heretic, who is never by 
your side. Ah, you start. Did you think that the 
whole court did n't know it? Are you going to endure 
it, Margot? 

Mar. [Quietly.] The whole court knows it? 

Guise. Ay, and Madame de Sauve says 

Mar. {Starting to her feet.] Charlotte de Sauve! 

Guise. Sit down, Margot, Henry is watching us. 
[She sits.] Is he, to treat a princess of France like a 
peasant girl, and pass her by with a glance? Where 
is your pride, Princess? 

Mar. [Bitterly.] In the dust. 

Guise. Then rouse yourself and treat him with the 
contempt he has shown you. 



Act II. 47 

Mar. [Slowly.] Do you love me, Henry of Guise? 

Guise. I worship you. You, Margot. 

Mar. Is it the princess you woo, or the woman? 

Guise. The woman, a thousand times the woman. 
The Guise is great enough to love where he will, to 
love for love alone. O that you were a beggar girl, 
that I might make you a queen. 

Mar. If I were sure 

Guise. Look at him. [Henry has mingled with the 
dancers.] I will come to your room to-night. 

Mar. No, no. 

Guise. I will come, I will come — when you send 
me that riband. [Pointing to riband on her shoulder. 

Mar. I have my pride — I shall not send it, M. de 
Guise. 

Guise. It is because you have pride that you will 
send it. 

[Guise retires as dance breaks up and Henry 
comes down, laughing, with the dancers. 

Henry. Ah, Marie, you danced adorably. De 
Mouhy is a lucky fellow. 

Marie. He is — to have such a master. [Curtsies. 

Henry. To have such a mistress. [Bows.] Come, 
Marie, I '11 tell you a secret. 

Marie. [Whispering.] You must n't, did n't De 
Mouhy tell you, the dullard? 

Henry. It 's all right, Marie, my secrets are for 
the whole world. You can tell it to Catherine herself. 

Marie. [Aloud.] I shall be honoured, your Maj- 
esty. His Majesty is going to tell me a secret. 

Torigny. May I hear too, Sire? 

Fosseuse. And I too, Sire? 

Dayole. And I? 



4 8 Henry of Navarre 

Henry. Mordieu, yes, but you '11 not tell? [Myste- 
riously.] It 's about my wife. 

[Marie looks uncomfortable, Fosseuse and 
Dayole eager. 

Fos. Yes, Sire, yes. 

Dayole. Yes, Sire, yes. 

Henry. You are sure you'll not tell? [They all 
nod.] She 's [he whispers], she 's the best wife and 
the most beautiful woman in France. [Laughs at 
their confusion, turns away, and meets De Mouhy.] 
Let them tell that to the Queen-Mother. 

[Marie laughs and stands by Margot. 

Henry. [Turns and meets Madame de Sauve.] 
Ah, Madame. [Kisses her hand.] Why did the music 
stop? There is only one woman more adorable than 
Madame de Sauve dancing. [Handing her to a seat.] 

De S. [Disappointedly, looks as if she thought he 
were going to say Margot.] Sire ! [Looks at Margot.] 
And that is 

Henry. [As she sits.] Madame de Sauve seated. 

De S. Ah, Sire, you flatter me. I cannot hope 
that my poor beauty — [Looks at Margot. Cather- 
ine and De Sauve exchange glances.] 

Henry. If I love the lily I need not hate the rose. 

De S. Oh, Sire, if I thought you loved me 

Henry. [Whispering.] Would you be kind? 

De S. If you would prove it and would trust me. 

Henry. Trust you — you 've turned a passable 
king into a very poor poet. 

De S. You 've written verses, Sire, and for me? 
You will read them? 

Henry. Do I not live to sing your praises? 

De S. [Clasps her hands.] Oh, Sire! 



Act II. 49 

[Henry reads, Court gathers round, Margot 
listens, jealously. 
Henry. [Reads.] 

The nymphs have left their pleasant streams, 

The fairies left the grove ; 
Deserted is the land of dreams, 
Of beauty, light, and love. 

No sound of laughter in the brook, 

No rustle in the leaf, 
No echo comes from cave or nook, 

No voice of joy or grief. 

Dryad and nymph to court are gone, 

And never more will rove, 
From her who makes all beauty one, 
My sweet Charlotte de Sauve. 
[All the time he is reading Margot watches and listens. 
Charles. Faith, Harry, you move apace ; the hunter 
is as great a courtier as them all. 

Henry. When your Majesty takes up the pen your 
subjects can do no less. 

Charles. I write but indifferently, Harry. 
Henry. Indeed Sire, they tell me that Ronsard has 
turned hunter. 

[Charles moves off pleased with the compliment. 
De S. Oh, Sire, what beautiful verses! 
Henry. Hmm! They're not bad for a king. 
De S. Nay, Sire, you wrong yourself. Had you 
not been a king you would have been a great poet. 

Henry. Had I not been a king no one would have 
thought so. 

De S. Does your Majesty never believe any one 
sincere ? 



50 Henry of Navarre 

Henry. Yes, I know I am myself — sometimes. 
De S. Sometimes? 

Henry. {Ardently.] When I look into a fair lady's 
face. 

De S. Any fair lady's? 
Henry. Charlotte de Sauve's. 

[Margot, who has been showing signs of jealousy, 
comes down. 

De S. You mean it, Sire? 

Henry. How can I prove it ? I will put my verses 
to music and sing them outside your chamber window 
to-night. 

De S. To me, Sire? 

[Margot turns angrily away, fingering riband. 

Henry. To you. [Changing lightly.] And to the 
stars — if the stars will listen. 

De S. And you will trust me, Sire? 

Henry. Try me. 

De S. Then tell me why you — I 'm afraid, Sire. 

Henry. You do not love me. 

De S. Tell me why you have flouted 

Henry. [Quietly.] Go on, Madame. 

De S. Why you have deserted the Queen of 
Navarre, the most beautiful woman in France, for 
poor little me. 

Henry. I will, Madame de Sauv6: because I am 
not worthy of her, because I 'm only fit for her 
ladies and her maids. 

De S. [Bridling.] You are too modest, Sire. Is 
Monsieur de Guise worthy of the Queen of Navarre? 

Henry. Madame, you are not a man, I cannot call 
you to account. Believe me your beauty would go 
better with a quiet tongue. Tell Catherine that my 



Act II. 51 

sweet Charlotte de Sauve — [Laughs, bows, kisses her 
hand, and retires. Madame de Sauve stamps her 
foot and retires confused.] 

Mar. [Left.] Marie, take this riband to the Due 
de Guise and say one word, "To-night." 

Marie. To-night ? 

Mar. To-night. He will understand. [Marie hesi- 
tates and goes.] 

Charles. Where is Ruggieri ? 

Rug. [Steps from behind tapestry.] Here, Sire. 

[He is so near the King that he starts. 

Charles. Peste, man, where did you spring from? 
You startled me. You promised us a glimpse of 
things that are to come. 

Rug. The future reveals itself but dimly, in mo- 
ments, as a land seen by lightning. 

Charles. It is well. [Turning to Ruggieri.] Show 
me how long I shall reign and show me who comes 
after me. 

Rug. Let the lights be lowered. The great glass 
is prepared. 

Charles. Do you trust these prophecies, Harry? 

Henry. When I want a fortune for my sweetheart. 

Charles. [Moodily.] I distrust them, but I cannot 
forget Luke Gaurico foretold my father's death. 

[Lights have been lowered and tapestry drawn 
aside, revealing a large mirror, which shows 
nothing but mist. Lights deepen. Pres- 
ently figure of Charles appears. 

Charles. It is myself, even as I live to-day. 
Rug. Silence Sire, your voice will break the spell. 
Each year you have to live the figure will appear. 

[Figure reappears. 



52 Henry of Navarre 

Charles. Look, it grows clear again and strong 
and well. 

[Figure disappears. 

Am I not young, with many years to reign? See, 
it comes again. [Figure appears bathed in blood.] 
Look! look! it sweats at every pore, and see, the per- 
spiration on the brow is blood — ah — it 's gone — wait 
— it will come again — no — yes — it must come again. 
I cannot die so soon. [Figure appears dimly.) Ah, 
once more. That is not I. [Figure gets clearer. 

Calk. [To Anjou.] Watch, watch, it is the 
Bearnais. 

[Figure gets clearer and shows Anjou. 

Anjou. Look, Charles, look, it is Navarre crowned 
King. [Looks at mirror, sees it is himself.] My God! 
it is myself, and Charles 

Charles. [Charles has watched, fascinated, eyes 
starting out of head; he jumps to his feet.) My brother 
King, while I die bathed in sweat of blood! It shall 
not be. [Rushes at Anjou, seizes him by throat, raises 
dagger.) When you are dead I '11 laugh at prophecies. 
[Henry rushes to him, seizes raised arm, Court looking 
on petrified.) Let go my arm, Harry! let go, I say! 
Fool, do you not know that Anjou wants your life! 
Do you not know that he wants to massacre — let 
go or you die, too. Fool, fool, fool! 

Henry. Lights, lights, you fools! the lights will 
bring him to. Sire, Sire, it is your brother. Sire, 
think — you are the King. Where is your Majesty? 

[Lights turned on. The glare brings Charles 
to his senses. He drops dagger. Mutters, 
looks at Catherine. 

Charles. Mother, this is your trick. Where is 



Act II. 53 

Ruggieri? He shall hang for this — hang when the 
rack has twisted all his limbs and the wedge has 
crushed his bones. Anjou, you are my brother, but 
if you once look higher than my shoulder [taps his 
crown] I '11 leave you nothing to wear a crown upon. 
[To Navarre.] Harry, you 're a fool. [Gloomily to 
himself.] Two years, two years. [Exit muttering. 

Cath. [Whispering.] You are not safe, my son. 
The poison is in his blood, he will not forget. 

Anjou. Why, did you not remember that the 
prophecy says I reign too? He will kill me in one of 
his mad moods. Only the Bearnais saved me. 

Cath. [To Anjou.] Come, my son, we must after 
and pacify your brother. [Exeunt. 

Henry. [To Margot.] Why did you not fly with 
the court? I have offended your brother. Mordieu, 
a leper with bells would not have frightened them 
more. 

Mar. I stay with my husband. You have saved 
me a brother, but more I thank you for having kept 
Charles's hands clean. I love Charles, and for all his 
mad fits I think Charles loves me. 

Henry. Charles loves me while Anjou is his heir. 

Mar. [A pause.] Sire, why did you marry me? 

Henry. [Looks at her.] Look in your glass child, 
and you will find reason enough there. 

Mar. Spare me your praises and tell me why you 
wedded me. Had I such thoughts as you must have 
had for me, not all the kings that ever reigned in 
France had made me become your bride. Sire, why 
did you marry me? 

Henry. [Pauses.] I married you to bring our 
country peace. God puts us here but for a little 
space. But France lives on. France comes before 



54 Henry of Navarre 

all. She was drenched with blood and bare with 
famine, Margot. As I rode here I saw the peasants 
harnessed to the plough; the King had seized their 
oxen. And the hunger! You don't know what 
hunger is. 

Mar. I have been lost in the chase and spent the 
night in the woods. 

Henry. You have not seen the bones bursting 
through the skin and the eyes wild and vacant, you 
have not seen the child die in its mother's arms because 
her breasts were dry. [Margot, covering her face 
with her hands, "It is horrible."] It is what war has 
done. I care not if I praise God in French or Latin, 
but I have sworn that I will give my country peace. 
Margot, if I had hated you, I would have married 
you. 

Mar. [Sadly.] All was for France and nothing 
for the woman. Your boy in Gascony was all a 
dream. 

Henry. No, on my soul, you know not what I 
suffer. I have a garden full of roses, I may not pluck 
one. Oh, Margot, I would give life and soul to serve 
my country, but all the joy of the world is wrapped in 
you. Margot, I will trust you. May I come to you, 
may I be yours indeed ? 

Mar. [Breathlessly.] You love me, you love me, 
Harry? 

Henry. Yes, I love you. 

Mar. Harry ! 

[She extends her hands, he takes them, then slowly 
dropping them he takes her face between his 
hands and kisses her lips. 

Henry. My Margot ! 



Act II. 55 

Mar. [Leaning her arms on his arms.] And 
Madame de Sauve? 

Henry. A spy of the Queen-Mother's, sweetheart. 
I play with her as she would play with me. 

Mar. Then you will not go to her window to- 
night ? 

Henry. No, for I will be with you, my heart. 

Mar. [With a happy little sigh.] Oh, Harry, at 
last! [Snuggling into his arms. Then she suddenly 
remembers the Guise.] No, not to-night, Harry, do 
not come to-night. 

Henry. [Looks at her, then all his suspicions revive.] 
Not to-night? You are playing with me, Margot; 
you do not love me. 

Mar. I do, I do, by sweet Genevieve. 

Henry. Then why may I not come to you to-night? 

Mar. I cannot tell you. Oh, trust me, trust me, 
Henry, your honour shall be safe. You have tor- 
tured me for so many days, have faith for just one 
more. 

Henry. I have been cruel, I will trust you, Margot. 
I swear I will not come until you send for me. [He 
takes her in his arms and is just about to kiss her when 
Margot disengages herself, saying "Sshf" Enter the 
Court, Charles, Catherine, Marie, etc.] 

Charles. Harry, I was mad just now; you saved 
me [looking at his hands as if he saw blood on them] 
from the brand of Cain. [Henry kisses his hand.] I 
would I were your brother. Wine, wine. 

Henry. Now, Sire, you are yourself again. Drink, 
Sire, drink. There is more wisdom in a full cup than 
in all of Ruggieri's ravings. 

Mar. [To Catherine.] Mother, he loves me, he 
loves me, I shall not need your potion. 



56 Henry of Navarre 

Cath. Give it to him, child, it will make him 
secure. It will please him if you will fill his cup 
yourself. 

Mar. I '11 do so; he cannot love me too much. 

Cath. [To Marie, abruptly.] Well, what did you 
learn ? 

Marie. Nothing, Madame. 

Cath. Take care, if you deceive me 

Marie. [Frightened.] The Queen of Navarre 

Cath. Yes, Margot, well? 

Marie. She sent a riband to the Due de Guise, and 
the one word "To-night." 

Cath. [Bewildered.] To-night, to-night? 

Charles. Come, Harry, drink, drink, and we '11 
laugh at omens. Give me good wine, I feel I could 
live for ever. Wine there. 

Mar. [To Marie.] Find the Due de Guise, ask 
for my riband back, and say "Never." 

Marie. I go, Madame. 

[Henry takes up goblet from servant and is 
about to fill when Margot approaches. 

Mar. Sire, may I not pour it for you? 

Henry. A loving cup! I shall out-Jove the gods 
with such a Hebe. 

Mar. [Has phial in hand, takes wine from Henry's 
hand, and half turns as she pours it in, blushing.] It 
was my mother thought it my duty. 

Henry. [Suspiciously.] Your mother? 

Mar. I 've filled it with heart's happiness to the 
brim. 

Henry. Then I will drain it to the very dregs. 

Charles. Why, Margot, I never saw you look so 
beautiful. Your eyes are stars. 



Act II. 57 

Mar. Sire, you have made me happy. 

Charles. You 're a lucky fellow, Harry. 

Henry. I would not change places even with you, 
Sire. Ladies of the court and gentlemen all, I give 
you a toast. My white star with the heart of gold. 
My Marguerite of Marguerites! [Holds cup up to 
Marguerite, watches her. Catherine comes down 
anxiously.] 

Mar. [Looking at Henry's hand.] What a won- 
derful stone, Sire. 

Henry. Ay, like you, Margot, it has a heart of gold. 
[Lifts cup.] 

Mar. [Fascinated by stone.] Look, Sire, it turns 
green. 

Henry. Green! [Laughs.] Why, so it is. [Looks 
at Queen- Mother's face, his face hardens. Looks at 
Margot suspiciously.] Won't you drink first, Mar- 
got? it is our loving cup. 

Mar. [Smiling into his face.] Our loving cup, 
yes. [She takes cup, lifts it, while Henry all the 
time watches Catherine's movements.] To my 
husband ! 

Cath. [Convulsively.] Margot! 

[Henry stumbles, catches Margot' s arm, as if 
to save himself, spills wine, looks at De 
Mouhy, who is standing by. 

Henry. My wife just saved me, De Mouhy. 
[Laughs.] What a clumsy Bearnais you have married, 
Margot. [Takes De Mouhy' s glass.] My Marguerite 
of Marguerites. [Drains it.] 

All. Marguerite, Marguerite! 

[As curtain descends Henry gives one look at 
Catherine, who stands rigid in one corner, 



58 Henry of Navarre 

and laughs. Their eyes meet and he raises 
his goblet again.] 
Henry. My Marguerite ! 

[Curtain.] 



ACT III. 

Marguerite's apartments in the Louvre. A tiring 
room, if possible, showing glimpses of bedroom 
through tapestry. A large window looking on to 
river. Door down L. Cabinet with secret door 
up L. M argot's picture on wall. 

[Marie discovered walking up and down 

impatiently; takes up book, puts it down 

again, looks at old time-piece, goes to window 

and is looking out when De Mouhy enters 

gaily dressed as a cavalier. Goes to window, 

seizes Marie, she screams, he kisses her. 

Marie. Clumsy, I might have fallen out of the 

window [looks and shudders'] and your little Marie 

would have been nothing but a heap of bones. 

De M. [Looking down.] Yes, it would have been 
a fearsome drop, but you '11 laugh at precipices when 
you come to Gascony with me. 

Marie. I 'm not sure I '11 go to Gascony with you. 
De M. Oh, but you will. You were looking out 
of the window for me then. 

Marie. I wasn't; it's too dark, and you're a 
big ugly — [suddenly seeing his fine clothes.] Oh, M. de 
Mouhy, how fine you look. 

De M. [Turning round.] Do you like them? 
Marie. Like them? why, the King doesn't look so 
grand. Put on your hat. 

[De Mouhy puts it on straight. 
Not like that, so [gives it a rakish angle], and your 

59 



60 Henry of Navarre 

sash so. Now you are a courtier. Have n't you 
anything for me to-day? 

De M. Why [kisses her] yes. 

Marie. [Sniffs.] What 's that? [Sniffs.] That 
scent? It's flowers of Provence. I knew it. Oh, 
you beast, you 've been deceiving me. 

De M. Deceiving you, Marie, I swear 

Marie. Don't swear — you 're a Huguenot. 

De M. But, Marie 

Marie. [Scornfully.] Flowers of Provence ! That 
is La Belle Dayole's scent. Now, now I know why 
you have put on those fine feathers. 

De M. Of course you do, I put them on to please 
you. 

Marie. To please me! I suppose it was to please 
me that La Belle Dayole gave you her scent. Fool! 
She wanted all the court to know that she had cap- 
tured you. Though Heaven knows why — you 're not 
much to look at. [Her nose in the air.] 

De M. Marie, I swear to you I bought it at Rene's. 

Marie. Bought it at Rene's indeed ! A likely tale ! 
What have you to do with scent? 

De M. You first made me use it, I bought it only 
for you. 

Marie. For me? I hate it in a man. It 's only fit 
for fops, for exquisites! I like a soldier. Come here- 
[De Mouhy goes up to her apprehensively.] Don't look 
so frightened, I shan't bite you, booby. Now. [Un- 
does all the business of second act, takes off sash, uncurls 
moustachios, etc., takes feather out of hat.] Put it on. 
[He puts it on at a rakish angle.] Not like that. [She 
puts it on square.] I might have known how you 
would conduct yourself with such a master. 

De M. But, Marie 



Act III. 61 

Marie. Spare your protestations. I '11 protect 
you from the court ladies in the future. Don't you 
court each and all like Henry of Navarre. Be warned. 
They say he had a narrow escape to-day. 

De M. Oh, what tale runs at court to-day? 

Marie. The courtiers say that Catherine tried to 
poison Henry and that he was saved by a magic ring, 

De M. Then the courtiers lie. 

Marie. Why, was n't the cup poisoned? 

De M. The cup was poisoned, but Henry was 
saved by his own wits. Why did he offer it to Mar- 
got? To see if Catherine would start. 

Marie. And then he laughed; oh, I begin to 
understand your Henry of Navarre. 

De M. The Queen-Mother begins to understand 
him too. She fears him, but if she can only stir up 
strife between him and Margot she will be able to 
destroy him. 

Marie. He will deserve it, I shall not pity him. 

De M. I rise or fall with him, his death means 
mine. 

Marie. His death means yours? :, 

De M. Ay, and all of our Religion. This marriage 
is our only safeguard. 

Marie. What, oh what have I done? Oh, I have 
ruined you. 

De M. Ruined me — what do you mean? 

Marie. Arthur, forgive me ! She frightened me and 
looked at me like a snake, and I can't help myself. 
I did n't know it would hurt you. 

De M. What have you done? 

Marie. Marguerite sent me with a riband to the 
Due de Guise, with the one word "To-night." 

De M. Sang Dieu! Then she is in the plot after 



62 Henry of Navarre 

all. The Guise sent for! She is a true Valois, she is 
false. 

Marie. No, she 's my mistress, I '11 not have her 
miscalled. But I told Catherine. I 've injured you 
and ruined her; oh, what can we do? 

De M. Stop the Guise. No, let him come — Henry 
will kill him. 

Marie. That is what Catherine wants; then the 
Parisians will kill you all. No, the Guise must n't come, 
but how can we stop him ? I searched for him. Margot 
sent for her riband back, but the Guise had gone. 

De M. Let him come. I '11 meet him at the door 
and kill him with my own hand. 

Marie. No, no, Arthur, you must not. You are 
not of the blood, they would break you on the wheel. 
Oh, it would kill me. 

Enter Catherine silently; they fall apart confused. 

Cath. You may go, Sir. [De Mouhy ail.] Child, 
you are too familiar with this heretic. 

Marie. I did but obey your Majesty's instructions. 

Cath. [Eagerly.] Well, what have you learned? 

Marie. Some one must have warned him, he will 
tell nothing. 

Cath. Has the King of Navarre been to say good- 
night yet? I believe it is his custom. 

Marie. Always, Madame. 

Cath. We will await him. The Queen of Navarre 
is ill and cannot see him to-night. [Looks at fireplace.] 
See that the fire be lighted. 

Marie. [Astonished.] The fire! But, Madame, it 
is August. 

Cath. The nights are fresh and the Queen is frail. 
Do you hear me, child? 



Act III. 63 

[Marie goes to bell, summons servant, servant 
enters, lights fire with tinder, exit. 

Cath. There is no word from the Due de Guise? 

Marie. No, Madame. 

Cath. Good, he will come, Henry and he will meet. 
[Suddenly.] You 've not mentioned this to a soul ? 

Marie. [Frightened.] No, Madame, no. 

Cath. If my women speak I have an oubliette 
where they may talk all day and none will listen. 
You understand, child? 

Marie. [Almost inaudibly.] Yes, Madame. 

Cath. [Sees parcel on table.] What 's this? 

Marie. It is for the King of Navarre. 

Cath. For the King of Navarre? [Looks at it 
again, and about to open it, when Henry enters 
whistling, takes off sword, and glances quickly around.] 

Henry. Ah, mother, this is kind of you. Where is 
Margot ? 

Cath. She is not well, so I kept her in my apart- 
ments with her sister until she retires. 

Henry. Not well? I must go to her; if she is ill 
I should be by her side. 

Cath. No, stay, it is but a passing spell. [Henry 
hums song.] You are merry, my son. 

Henry. As a bird in a bower, as a cat with cream, 
as a donkey with a bunch of thistles. [Laughs.] Ha, 
Marie, a fire in August? 

Marie. The Queen-Mother ordered it. 

Henry. Mordieu, mother, it is thoughtful of you. 
You know I am a Southerner, cradled in the sun, 
and how the north air chills my bones. I thank you, 
mother. [Bows low.] I must seek Margot, mother. 

Cath. A minute, Harry. [To Marie.] You may 
go, child. 



64 Henry of Navarre 

Henry. No, stay, Marie. 

Cath. Henry ! 

Henry. You take my wife from me, at least leave 
me her maid. 

Cath. The King jests; go, child. 

Henry. The King is in earnest, child, you may 
remain. 

Marie. Am I to stay, Madame? 

Henry. Why not? 

Cath. As you will, why not? 

Henry. Why am I so honoured to-night? why 
would you keep me ? 

Cath. Henry, if you would but trust me once. 

Henry. I should never mistrust you again? I feel 
it, Madame. 

Cath. [Looks at him keenly; he still smiles.'] Are 
you and Margot happy? I am your mother now. 

Henry. I have not complained. [With double 
meaning.] Has Margot? 

Cath. No. But — 

Henry. Madame, she is the sweetest woman in 
the world, and you — you — are her mother. [Kisses 
Catherine's hand, picks up parcel.] Ah, for me; will 
you permit me, Madame? 

Cath. Do not mind me, I am your mother now. 
[Goes to fire.] 

Henry. [Opens parcel, reads, "If heat be too much 
for you, this will revive you. Ruggieri." Looks up 
suddenly, sees Catherine over fire, sprinkling powder. 
Henry whistles air "The Huguenots must die." 
Catherine sees him looking at her; tears up paper, 
laughs.] 

Cath. Another letter enclosing a petition. Yours 
I trust was more pleasant? 



Act III. 65 

Henry. [Carelessly.] From my falconer; he has a 
new bird for me to fly. 

Cath. Well, good-night. 

Henry. Must you go? You keep me here, and 
now you would leave me, mother. 

Cath. Since you have nothing to tell me. [Smiling.] 
I am glad all is well. 

Henry. Permit me to accompany you. 

Cath. Nay, stay here, my maids wait without. 

Henry. I '11 walk with you to them. 

[The more Catherine tries to have him remain 
the more he insists. 

Cath. No, I forbid it; the world talks too much of 
you and my maids. 

Henry. The world thinks me too fortunate. 

Cath. The Queen might return. 

Henry. Your Majesty forgets, she is not well. 
[Catherine begins to look nervously, smoke just 
begins to show. Henry sees it and laughs. 

Henry, Stay with me, Madame, until Margot 
comes. 

Cath. I would but — the King is coming to see you 
alone. 

Henry. He will have the greater happiness of 
seeing his mother. 

Cath. I must be gone. 

Henry. [Bowing in front of her.] Not without 
me, Madame, I will not be so ungallant. See how a 
Gascon clings to a woman, even his wife's mother. 

Cath. Quick then, Henry, show me the way then 
if you will. 

[Henry bows her off, smoke thickens. Marie 
gets up, puts hand to head, reels, falls in 



66 Henry of Navarre 

corner. Window at back opened. Henry's 
face appears; smoke clears, he enters, goes 
to door, admits Charles. 

Charles. Do you always enter through the window, 
Henry? 

Henry. Not in my own house, Sire. 

Charles. [Laughs.'] By the splendour of God, you 
Gascons are strange people. Did you walk along that 
cornice ? A cat could scarce find room. It is dark,too. 

Henry. A cat could not follow a chamois, a Gascon 
must. Ventre St. Gris! Marie, Marie! [Lifts up 
her head.} 

Charles. She has fainted; ring for wine. 

Henry. I have something here will revive her. 

Charles. How close the room is. Peste ! no wonder 
she found it too warm. 

Marie. [Looks round.] Sire, I became dizzy; it 
must have been the heat. 

Charles. Margot must be mad — a fire in August 
and a day like this! 

Henry. Yes, Sire. [Brushing hand on window-sill.] 
Sire, the — the — heat has killed all the flies. 

Charles. Tut, Harry, what joke is this? 

Henry. None of mine, Sire, I never play with fire. 
Ask your mother, Sire, or better still, ask no one. 

Charles. [Significantly.] Ah ! [To Marie.] You 
are better, Mademoiselle? 

Marie. Thank you, Sire. 

Charles. You may retire. 

[Marie curtsies and exit. 

Charles. [Wanders about, picks up sword lying on 
table.] This is a good blade, Harry. And you have 
a good wrist and a nerve that will not fail. 



Act III. 67 

Henry. I fence indifferent well; for the rest, I 
never allow myself to be nervous. 

Charles. Well said, Harry. Peste ! You have my 
blood in your veins, and for all you 're a damned 
Huguenot I like you, Harry. 

Henry. And in spite of your blood and for all 
you 're a damned Catholic, I like you, Charles. 

Charles. Ha, ha, ha ! the Guise is a good blade, but 
he 's impetuous, Harry. He has never been taught 
to wait. Now St. Luc 

Henry. Your Majesty did n't honour me with 
your company to discuss swordsmanship. 

Charles. No, the truth is, Harry, I 'm worried 
about you. I don't think Margot treats you fairly. 

Henry. Sire, you yourself have not been more 
gracious. 

Charles. Tut, Harry, you cannot deceive me. I 
am the King, and I know. She was part of the treaty. 
You married her because she was a princess of France. 

Henry. Had she been dowerless, I had asked no 
other wife. 

Charles. Peste, man, be serious. These protesta- 
tions are all very well for the crowd, but we can speak 
to each other plainly. 

Henry. Do I not speak plainly, Sire? Look into 
my eyes. I swear that Margot is my wife, and that 
I have no other love. 

Charles. God's death, he means it. You love her. 
Henry, on my soul, I 'm sorry for you. 

Henry. Sorry for me, Sire? 

Charles. Yes, sorry for you. You 're a good fellow, 
Henry, but you could hardly expect that Margot could 
love you. 

Henry. Thank you, Sire, and why not? 



68 Henry of Navarre 

Charles. She was forced into this marriage against 
her will, she has been cradled in the compliments of 
the court. You 're a soldier, a hunter, a man; now 
the Guise 

Henry. Damn the Guise ! I tell you, she loves me. 

Charles. She loves you? Don't be a fool, Harry. 

Henry. She loves me, Sire, my life on it. 

Charles. Peste, Harry, these maids of my mother's 
have turned your head. You 're too simple for the 
court. 

Henry. I am, Sire, I 'm simple enough to trust my 
lady's word. 

Charles. She told you she loved you? 

Henry. Herself, Sire. 

Charles. And I 've always believed Margot, al- 
though we 've the same mother. Henry, she is 
deceiving you. This very night the Guise is to visit 
her. 

Henry. [Hand on sword.] It 's a lie, Sire. 

Charles. Henry ! 

Henry. [Kneeling.] Your pardon, Sire. I forgot 
myself, she is my wife. 

Charles. She is my sister, but if she forgets she is 
your wife, she shall not forget she is a Valois, and 
with the Guise. He has humbled me often, but to- 
night [viciously] I have him by the throat. 

Henry. I can't believe it, Sire. Only to-day she 
told me she was all mine. 

Charles. Do you stay here to-night? 

Henry. [Reluctantly.] No. 

Charles. Then come with me and we will prove it, 
Harry. 

Henry. To-night? I can't to-night. 

Charles. Why not? 



Act III. 69 

Henry. I told her that I would not visit her to- 
night, that I would trust her. 

Charles. Trust her! You're mad! [Frantically.] 
I tell you she 's a Valois, her blood is cursed. Do I 
trust my brother or my mother? If you were not a 
Bourbon, should I trust you? Some day I '11 open 
this vein [showing arm] and let my blood out drop 
by drop, I hate it so. [Cunningly.] You trust her, 
then why not come and prove that she is true? 

Henry. You are mistaken, Sire, some one has lied 
to you. 

Charles. No, no, my mother does not make mis- 
takes; her spies serve her too well. 

Henry. Catherine! [Henry pauses.] It was she 
that put these suspicions in your brain. Now my 
soul tells me surely they are false. Sire, I '11 come 
with you and prove that she is true. 

Charles. And if the Guise be there 

Henry. [Picking up sword.] I '11 kill him with this 
sword. 

Charles. Good arm, good blade, I '11 second you, 
cos. Kill him, kill him, stick him in the throat. 
Let the blood run. Ha, ha, it will be rare sport, 
Harry! [Going off.] If you fail, Harry, I '11 kill him 
myself. [Exit. 

Henry. [Goes to Margot's picture.] There 's love 
in your eyes and truth upon your lips, Margot, and I 
trust you. 

Enter De Mouhy. 

De M. Are you alone, Sire? 

Henry. Sire! Why, man, what 's the matter? are 
the Catholics up? 

De M. The Catholics up? I would they were, 



70 Henry of Navarre 

Sire. Then we could fight and die with unstained 
honour as our brothers died at Jarnac. 

Henry. Honour! Who calls our honour in ques- 
tion, De Mouhy? 

De M. Sire, forgive me if I speak it, the words 
sting my tongue, but I must say them. 

Henry. Come, man, out with them, don't make 
them worse by waiting. 

De M. Sire, the Queen is deceiving you. 

Henry. What! [Laughs.] You too, De Mouhy, 
you too, caught by this slander? 

De M. Sire, you laugh, but it is true. 

Henry. Ha, ha, ha, my poor De Mouhy, why don't 
you tell me that the Guise comes here to-night? 

De M. You know, Sire ? 

Henry. Of course, and more. This is a trick of 
Catherine's, like half the scandal that stinks in the 
court. It 's a lie, a trick. Confess one of her women 
slung this tale at you. 

De M. [Firmly.] It is true, Sire, it is true. 

Henry. God's death, you dare! 

De M. Ay, with your sword against my heart, 
with death looking me in the face I say, it is true. 

Henry. [Pauses, looks in De Mouhy' s eyes, drops 
his sword.] True? For God's sake, don't say that, 
say it 's a lie, say [pulling himself together] who 
told you, De Mouhy, one of Catherine's women, was 
it not? 

De M. It was Marie Belleforet. 

Henry. [Relieved.] Ha, ha, I knew it. Her mis- 
tress made her. Catherine frightened the girl and 
she lied to you. 

De M. She loves me, Sire, she would n't lie to me. 

Henry. And Marguerite loves me. 



Act III. 71 

De M. She sent her riband to the Guise by Marie, 
and he visits her to-night. 

Henry. To-night! and I thought she loved me, I 
thought that doubt was past. De Mouhy, De Mouhy, 
what shall I do? 

De M. Kill him, Sire, kill him where he stands. 

Henry. [Picks up sword.] I will, De Mouhy, I will 
with this sword. If Henry of Guise comes here to- 
night he will not leave to-night. Not all Lorraine 
shall save him. But Margot, Margot! 

De M. She must die too, Sire. 

Henry. No, it is my fault. Shall I blame her 
because I was a fool. She was mine, De Mouhy, mine 
in all her youth and purity, and I would not trust 
her, I let her mother throw her shadow on her, I 
humiliated her, I neglected her. I drove her into the 
Guise's arms. 

DeM. But your honour, Sire? 

Henry. Honour! Did I think of her honour, when 
I let my vile suspicions light on her? It was I who 
was to blame, oh, De Mouhy, to have had such love 
and to have lost it ; to have plucked such a rose with 
all its colour and perfume, but to fling it to another. 
Yet this very evening she said she loved me. [Picks 
up his sword, buckles it on, takes hat as if going, puts 
down hat, thinks.] De Mouhy, why did Catherine tell 
Charles to warn me against Margot? [Comes back.] 

De M. What matters so you are warned, Sire? 
So that you know the worst? 

Henry. If I kill the Guise what will Paris do? 

De M. Rise up in arms and massacre the Hugue- 
nots. But your honour will be avenged. 

Henry. My honour! My honour! So France 
must be drenched in blood and half her best sons 



72 Henry of Navarre 

killed that my honour may be avenged. Paris must 
rise, Coligny, Conde, and all our friends be slaugh- 
tered in their beds because the Guise loves my wife. 
I 've lived and laughed with peril for my country 
and my cause. My honour, my life, and Margot, 
what are all compared with France? It is because 
my poor countrymen died every hour of famine, fire, 
and the steel that I am here. Shall I desert them 
now? Oh, what a fool I 've been. 

De M. You have been true, it is she who has 
betrayed us. 

Henry. Silence ! I '11 not believe it until my own 
eyes tell me so — but what a fool I 've been. I came 
here lightly to measure my young brains with Cather- 
ine's. I thought a Gascon might pit his wits against 
the devil himself, and what a trap I 'm in! [Pares 
up and down, thinking.] 

De M. Trap ! 

Henry. Ay, a trap. There are two things alone that 
Catherine fears, the Guise and Henry of Navarre. 
If I kill the Guise the Catholics kill me, and both her 
foes are gone. The stars have lied and the Huguenots 
are lost. And I tried my wits against hers. Fool! 
Fool! 

De M. Let me kill him, Sire. 

Henry. That would not make the Catholics love 
me better. [Walks up and down thinking, suddenly 
stops.] De Mouhy, get me my mask. 

DeM. Your mask, Sire? 

Henry. My mask. [He goes to window.] And, De 
Mouhy, it 's not every one who can climb like a cat 
or a Gascon. Get me a ladder of rope. La Roche- 
foucauld has one. 

De M. Where shall I meet you, Sire? 



Act III. 73 

Henry. At my rooms and within the half hour. 
I '11 not take a sword, I '11 not trust myself. Come, 
De Mouhy, my wife will be here, and I would not meet 
her now. Come De Mouhy. [Laughs.] 

De M. You laugh, Sire ? 
'• Henry. Ay, as you will do, De Mouhy, when you see 
the King to-night. 

Enter Marie. 

Henry. Your mistress, my wife, is she well? 

Marie. Why, Sire, yes, she was never better. I 
never saw her look so beautiful. 

Henry. [To De Mouhy.] Then Catherine lied to 
me. She never looked so beautiful, Marie? 

Marie. Never, Sire, love is worth all Rene Bian- 
chi's powders. 

Henry. [Brushing sleeve against Marie's cheek; 
laughs, then brushes powder from the same.] Yet you 
still use them, Marie. [Turning.] But you are right, 
love is a great beautifier. [Half to himself, going.] 
Love for whom? For me or for — come, De Mouhy. 

[Exit. 

De M. [Turns back, whispers hurriedly.] On no 
account admit the Guise to-night. 

Marie. What will you give me? 

De M. [Picks her up and kisses her.] That. 

[Margot enters, sees it all, laughs, turns her 
back to De Mouhy, who shuffles, their faces 
meet, she laughs and turns away. De 
Mouhy suddenly darts to the door and 
exits. 

Mar. Oh, Marie, Marie, I don't think Calvin him- 
self would be safe with you. 



74 Henry of Navarre 

Marie. Indeed he would, Madame, he preaches 
too much. I want a husband who won't talk. 

Mar. A husband? — is it so serious, child? Well, I 
wish you joy. I 'm so happy I could wish the whole 
world in love to-night ; even my mother could n't vex 
me when she kept me in her apartment as if I were a 
child. Oh, where is my riband, Marie? 

Marie. Your riband? 

Mar. Yes, I told you to get it back. 

Marie. I have n't got it. 

Mar. What, he would n't part with it? You told 
him? 

Marie. I told him nothing, Madame. The Due 
had disappeared. 

Mar. Disappeared? You must find him, Marie, 
seek him at once. 

Marie. I saw M. de Besme. 

Mar. Well? 

Marie. He said that the Due had given orders 
that he was on no account to be found before morning. 
His servants dare not disobey him. , 

Mar. Oh, Marie, he will come here, just when I 
thought all safe, and I was so happy. 

Marie. And if the King of Navarre should come? 

Mar. He won't, he has given me his word. But 
he may hear, and I want his trust, his faith, and if 
he should see the Guise I should never be able to 
convince him that I — that I — love him. 

Marie. You love your husband, Madame? Oh, 
if I had but known. I thought you hated this mar- 
riage. I thought — but the Guise must not come. I '11 
go at once, I '11 meet him at the door and turn him 
back. 

[Gentle knock at door, they look at each other.] 



Act III 75 

Mar. [Whispering.] It is he. [Knock repeated 
softly.] Go to the door [still whispering] and say 
I 'm not here, Marie, say [half laughing] — say I 'm 
with my husband. 

[Marie goes to door, voices, then angrily the Guise.] 
Guise. Stand aside, girl. I am the Guise. [Enters.] 
[Margot shrinks up in corner, Guise looks round.] 
Guise. Margot ! 

[Margot, terror-stricken, says nothing, Marie has 
re-entered.] 

Guise. You may go, girl. 

Mar. No, no, don't leave me, for God's sake don't 
leave me. 

Guise. Margot, what does this mean? 

Mar. M. le Guise, as you are a gentleman, I ask 
you to go at once. 

Guise. Is this your riband, Madame? 

Mar. Yes, but 

Guise. Did you not send it to me? 

Mar. I did but I was wrong; I loved my husband, 
he angered me, and in a fit of jealousy I turned to 
you to punish him. I was mad, but the moment 
you were gone I recovered myself. I sent to get my 
token back, but it was too late. I beg you as you 
are a gentleman to leave this room at once. 

Guise. And you think the Guise is to be made a 
plaything to rouse the envy of the Bearnais? I came 
here by your invitation, Madame, and I do not go 
until I am satisfied. Margot, can't you see I love you? 
It 's a fire that burns me up. Can't you see it in 
my eyes? Don't you hear it in my voice? Margot, 
I shake from head to foot. I 'm faint from love of 
you. Margot, you 've brought me inside the gates 



76 Henry of Navarre 

of paradise, not all the angels shall turn me out 
again. [Has gradually advanced, seizes her.] Margot! 

Mar. [Breaking away.] Oh, you beast, if I were 
a man I would kill you where you stand. 

Guise. And I love you for it, I love you for your 
spirit, even for your hate. It 's something for the 
Guise to fight, to conquer, Margot; and I mean to 
conquer to-night. 

Mar. [Quickly.] Stand back or I 11 scream. 

Guise. The walls are thick; your mother built 
them, Margot, and were your screams heard, who dare 
thwart the Guise? 

Mar. My husband fears you not. 

Guise. The Bearnais! Margot! [Steps towards 
her.] 

Mar. Henry! Henry! 

Guise. [Stops.] You love him! Will you love 
him when he 's dead! 

Mar. Dead! What do you mean? 

Guise. Why did Charles give the fairest flower in 
his realm, his Marguerite, to a Huguenot, to a heretic? 
[Significantly.] He only loves a Huguenot when 
he 's dead. 

Mar. Do you mean my marriage 

Guise. I mean that it was not meant that you 
should love Navarre, nor he love you, nor shall you 
until I have had my will. 

[He seizes Margot, she struggles, calls "Henry/" 
Tap, tap, tap on window at back, Henry's 
face in mask at window, Margot sees face, 
screams, Guise falls back, draws sword, 
Henry jumps lightly into room. He is 
masked and unrecognisable. 



Act III. 77 

Henry. Put up your sword, M. le Due. I am a 
friend ; see, I am unarmed. 

Guise. What do you here? 

Henry. I come to warn you. 

Guise. Of what, Monsieur? 

Henry. Of the King. He knows of your coming. 
He plans to surprise you here to-night, any moment 
may bring him. 

Mar. My brother? Then my husband will know. 
Oh, God, what shall I do ? 

Guise. Let him come, I do not fear to meet him. 

Henry. The Guise's courage is well known, but 
has Monsieur no consideration for his lady? 

Guise. You are right, Madame, I go. 

Henry. Not that way ; the door is watched. 

Guise. Watched ! 

Henry. Open it and you will hear the Guard. 

[Guise opens door, voices heard off, laugh, si- 
lence, a voice, "Gentlemen, the King." 
Door shuts. 

Mar. Bolt it, Marie. What shall we do, what 
shall we do? 

Henry. If your Highness will trust me 

Guise. Take off your mask and let me see your 
face. 

Henry. I cannot. [Noise outside door.] 

Marie. They are coming. 

Mar. Oh, go, Monsieur, for God's sake go. 

Guise. Come on, fellow, show me the way. 

[Henry goes to the window, Guise follows and 
looks out, starts back. 

Guise. My God, it 's as black as night and as 
bottomless. 



78 Henry of Navarre 

Henry. The ladder is strong. 

Guise. I will not go, this is some trick. I '11 not 
risk my life on a frail rope. 

Henry. I walked that cornice in the dark to bring 
it to you. 

Guise. I am no mountebank to climb a houseside. 

[Beating on the door outside, voice, "Open, open." 

Mar. Speak to them, Marie. 

Marie. Who 's there? 

Charles. The King. 

Marie. The King! 

Mar. Charles! 

Guise. The King! [Looks at window, starts back. 

Henry. What, is the Guise afraid? 

Guise. No, damn you. [Takes off ring.] But for 
the service you have done me I give you this ring. 
I will redeem it with whatever you demand. For the 
word you said then, if ever we meet again, I will kill 
you with this hand. Come. [Gets outside window. 

[Noise at door. "Open, open," blows, etc.] 

Mar. [At window.] Quick, quick, follow him, 
whoever you are, and my gratitude go with you. 

Henry. [Has loosened the ladder.] Mordieu, the 
ladder, I have dropped it. 

Mar. And they will find you. Oh, I shall be 
ruined after all. No, no, they must n't. Quick, this 
way, hide, hide! 

Henry. [Laughs.] But 

Mar. [Pushes him into cabinet.] There. 

[Margot dives into room, tearing off dress as 
she goes, re-appears in dressing-gown; 
Marie opens door, enter Charles, Tavan- 
nes. De Retz. etc. 



Act III. 79 

Charles. By the splendour of Heaven, you keep 
me waiting, Margot. 

Mar. I had to arrange my attire, it is late, Sire. 

Charles. Are you alone, Margot? [Looking keenly 
around.] 

Mar. I have my maid, Sire. 

Charles. I hoped to bring you a husband, Margot, 
but he had other game to hunt. He 's an indulgent 
husband, is he not dear Margot? 

Mar. I don't understand you, Sire. 

Charles. Then I '11 speak plainly. Do you forget 
that I 'm the King and that you are my sister? Do 
you think I am blind and that you may ruffle it like 
any Paris troll? [Sternly.] You have a lover here. 

Mar. No Sire, upon my soul, I have not. 

Charles. Do you deny that the Due de Guise is 
hidden in your room? 

Mar. [Firmly.] Yes, Sire. 

Charles. You swear it? 

Mar. Yes, by St. Genevieve! 

Charles. You lie. A man was seen to enter here. 
I know it was the Guise. Search high and low. By 
the splendour of God, he shall not escape me. 

[Tavannes and others search.] 

Mar. Search, Sire, search, you'll not find him here. 

Charles. The other room, Tavannes ; put your sword 
through every cranny; if it draws blood so much the 
better. 

Mar. It is useless, Sire, I say the Guise is not here. 

Charles. And I say that he is. By the splendour 
of God, I '11 pull the palace down, but I '11 find him. 

Mar. This is an outrage, Sire. I '11 not endure it. 
Permit me to retire. 



80 Henry of Navarre 

Tav. [Re-entering.'] The room is empty, Sire. 

[Margot gives an involuntary glance at cabinet.] 

Charles. Ah, think you I forgot the secret of your 
cabinet? [Opens it, sees Henry still masked.] Ah, 
Madame Margot, have I caught you now? 

[Margot half swoons against Marie.] 
Now, sir, who are you, what do. you here? 

Henry. Mordieu, Sire, where should a man be but 
in his wife's rooms? [Removes mask.] 

Charles. Henry ! 

Mar. [Faintly.] Henry! [Drops her face in her 
hands.] 

All. Navarre! 

Henry. [Laughs.] I told you, Sire, that you were 
mistaken. 

[Curtain.] 



ACT IV. 

Scene I. — Charles the IX. 's private room, hung with 
tapestries depicting hunting, implements of the 
chase everywhere. Charles, De Besme, Cather- 
ine, Tavannes, Anjou, etc. Etienne Leroy 
discovered singing, "As pants the hart for cooling 
streams." 
Charles. Thank you, my Etienne, thank you. 
[Etienne bows and retires.] [Repeats.] "As pants 
the hart for cooling streams." No heart ever burned 
for water as I burn within. 

Cath. You are not well, my son; I '11 send for 
Ambroise Pare. 

Charles. Nay, mother, it 's my soul that 's on 
fire. Oh, how I 've tried to wear it out, to tire it 
until it dropped off to sleep. Mother, I may break 
and bruise this poor body, but until it is dust, my 
soul will burn within me day and night. 

Tavannes. Your Majesty exhausts himself too 
much. These midnight chases through the silent 
forests until the horses drop and the dogs rebel, they 
fret you to a fever. 

Charles. Tavannes, you don't know. Can I lie 
through the night and hear the voices muttering in 
my ear? Mother, think you that Cosmo Ruggieri 
speaks the truth ? 

Cath. Our path is planned before us, we can but 
tread it. 

Charles. Two years, two years, and I dare not die. 
6 81 



82 Henry of Navarre 

Cath. Son, you shall have sleep. There is but one 
way to still these midnight mutterings, to cheer your 
troubled mind. 

Charles. A way to sleep ? Oh , I would walk through 
hell and never flinch were I oure of rest at last. Who 
can bring me rest? 

Cath. Yourself, Sire, you can find it your&elf. 

Charles. Myself? I 've tortured myself until I 
am one vast pain. 

Cath. Be God's arm on earth, stamp out these 
heretics, purge France clear. 

Charles. Drench France with blood, and have 
their shadows round me in the night? [Shudders. 

Anjou. It is they or you, brother, and since the 
Guise wounded Coligny they swear they '11 have the 
Guise's blood or yours. 

Charles. And so they shall. Am I not King of 
Catholic and Huguenot alike? I 've banished Guise 
the court, the bungler. If he returns the Huguenots 
shall have his blood. Why did n't he kill the Admiral 
outright? Why did he wound him and leave him to 
plead for justice? 

Tav. If you would but give the word, all is pre- 
pared, not one of them would trouble you again. 

Charles. Not one of them — I '11 not have Harry 
touched ; I like the Bearnais and he likes me. 
Enter Page. 

Page. King Henry of Navarre. 
Enter Henry. 

Charles. Ah, Harry, we were just talking of you. 
Henry. I felt my ears burn, but I thought it was 
because I was a heretic. 

Charles. A grim jest, but nay, I '11 not burn you, 



Act IV. 83 

Harry; but why don't you leave your chill-blooded 
comrades and join the church of your fathers? 

Henry. Mordieu, because I like my mother's better. 

Charles. She was a brave woman, Harry. 

Henry. [Reverently.] There was no better in the 
world, Sire. 

Charles. But a mass, Harry, might win you — who 
knows — a kingdom. 

Cath. [To Tavannes.] The King is restless to- 
night, and may consent. Henry will spoil all. I 
must get him home. 

Tav. A word from the Princess Marguerite would 
do it. 

Cath. Good; he shall have word. [Exit. 

Charles. You come as you should, when you are 
wanted, Harry. Tavannes and Anjou talk ever of 
the State, and my mother of my soul. 

Henry. But they each propose the same remedy, 
as Ambroise Pare" for your body, a little blood-letting, 
eh, Sire? [All start. 

Charles. Your wits are keen since you came to 
court, Harry. You '11 spend the night with me; 
you 're cheerful and I want merry company to-night. 

Henry. I should be dull to-night. Coligny lies 
badly wounded and as no one has been punished 

Charles. The Guise is banished under pain of 
death, let us forget him. See, I 'm writing a little 
poem to my Ronsard. Tavannes has no ear for verse 
and no soul for poetry. This is a good thought, Harry. 
[Reads:] 

"Your words can give immortal breath, 
Eternal life, where I give death." 
[Repeats:] 

"Where I give death." [Shudders.] 



84 Henry of Navarre 

Henry. Does n't your Majesty give life when he 
withholds the sword in other hands? 

Charles. Life! Death! We know not what they 
mean. [Pause.] Let 's go and shoe my horse, 
Harry. 

Enter Page, bows to Charles. Shows letter. 

Page. For the King of Navarre. 

Charles. Give it him. 

Enter Catherine, watches anxiously Henry and 
letter. Henry takes letter, reads it, turns it over. 

Charles. {To Page.] Who gave it you, sir? 

Page. {Looks anxiously at Catherine, who puts 
■finger to her lips.] A lady, Sire. 

Charles. A lady, Harry! I must tell Margot; 
I 'm her brother, Harry. 

Henry. You are her brother; the thought comforts 
me. 

Charles. Come, Harry. 

Henry. Pardon, Sire, I cannot stay to-night. 

Charles. By the splendour of heaven, are we to be 
neglected for your light o' loves? 

Henry. Ventre St. Gris! Light o' loves! {Controls 
himself.] Will you read the letter, Sire? 

Charles. {Reads.] "Come at once, I want you. 
Margot." {Looks at it.] But this writing is not — 
{Looks at Catherine who places her finger on her lips; 
he checks himself.] You will stay with me to-night, 
Harry ? 

Henry. When a woman calls and she the most 
beautiful in France, when a queen commands and she 
of your blood, Sire 

Charles. I ask you for your good. 

Henry. Sire, she is my wife. 



Act IV. 85 

Cath. Henry is right not to neglect his wife. He 
must go. 

Henry. Mordieu, Madame, you half persuade me 
to stay. 

Charles. I ask you to stay. 

Henry. I implore you, Sire, to give me permission 
to go. 

Charles. Once more I ask you, Harry; you would 
be better here, but if you insist 

Henry. I must insist, Sire; for good or ill, I go 
where Margot is. 

Charles. Go then, go, but for God's sake go quickly. 

Henry. Thank you, Sire. [Bows, exit. 

Charles. It is fate. If he had loved me better 
he would have stayed, he would have been saved. 
[Looks at Catherine.] Mother, Margot never wrote 
that letter. 

Cath. He had to go; it must be all or none. 

Enter Page. 

Page. Monsieur le Due de Guise. 

Charles. The Guise! The Guise! [Enter Guise.] 
God's eyes, M. le Due, you 're a bold man to venture 
here now; are you not banished? 

Guise. Ay, I am a bold man, but bold men are 
what your Majesty needs now. Did I not promise 
you that danger would find me by your side? 

Charles. The danger is yours; do you set your 
life at so little worth? 

Guise. I value it only when I can serve you, Sire. 
The Huguenots are arming, they have sworn to avenge 
Coligny, even on the King himself. 

Charles. They shall have vengeance. I will give 
you up. God's death, could you not wait? 



86 Henry of Navarre 

Guise. For nine years I have waited, Sire; a man 
may wait too long. 

Charles. Do you flout me, M. le Due? Arrest him, 
Tavannes. I '11 show that I am King. I '11 give 
them justice and they '11 disarm. 

Guise. They will disarm? Not unless you give 
up your mother and your brother too. 

Charles. My mother and my brother? — what have 
the Huguenots against them? 

Tav. Does not your Majesty know that the arquebus 
that wounded Coligny has been recognised as belong- 
ing to the Due d'Anjou? 

Charles. You, brother! Mort de tous les diables! 
This is too much! And you, mother, you too, were 
privy to this? Do you think you can force me against 
my will? God's life, I '11 show you all who reigns 
in France, I '11 

Cath. Be calm, my son, it is too late to withdraw. 
It is sink or swim, the Huguenots or us. 

Charles. If I were sure — there is no chance of 
failure? 

Guise. The net is complete. 

Charles. And I can save Henry, he can recant. 

Anjou. I have the Swiss Guard, and my gentlemen. 

Guise. Marcel the Provost will lead the citizens, 
and Cosseins guards Coligny, Cosseins who hates him. 
For nine years I have waited, and now at last! 
[Fingering dagger. ] At last! 

Cath. Every Catholic has a white band on his arm, 
a white cross on his cap ; the rest must die. It is with 
you, Sire. Does the great bell ring from the Palace 
of Justice to-night? 

Guise. Does the cannon fire from the tower of the 
Tournelles? 



Act IV. 87 

Charles. I '11 not have Harry injured. 

Tav. Sire, he must die; better the head of one 
salmon, than a thousand frogs. 

Charles. Not if he recant. Harry 's no bigot; he 
shall recant. 

Cath. My son it is he who menaces our house. 
It is he whose star cuts short your life. He is the 
great foe of all. 

Charles. None will escape to trouble me hereafter? 

Guise. The boats are drawn up on the river bank, 
the ferry is removed, we have the keys of all the city 
gates. 

Charles. I like Harry. 

Tav. He deceives you, Sire, he laughs at your hunt- 
ing, because you hunt on horseback as a King. 

Charles. What! By the splendour of heaven, 
I '11 hunt the boar with him on horse or foot, with spear 
or but a knife. 

Cath. He says that Ronsard writes your poems 
for you. 

Charles. God's eyes, this is too much — but you all 
hate him — I don't trust you, mother. 

Cath. He plots with Margot to deceive you. The 
other night you went to her rooms, who was there? 

Charles. The King of Navarre. 

Guise. What! Chardieu! [Draws sword involun- 
tarily.] 

Charles. And why not, M. le Due? 

Guise. Why not, indeed? But the court says he 
knows her maid's chambers better than the Queen's. 

Cath. That night I stood and watched the shining 
window. Suddenly a form loomed up against the 
light; it opened the window and entered. I waited, 
almost immediately it came out again. I sent my 



88 Henry of Navarre 

guards ; they found a rope ladder in the court below, 
the man had vanished. 

Guise. You know his name? 

Cath. [Pause , looks at Guise .] The night was dark, 
I could n't see his face. 

Charles. But you know it, Madame? 

Cath. [Looking at Guise.) I have forgotten it — 
there is so much to do. 

Charles. But Henry knew, he knew and laughed 
at me. S'death, he shall pay for it. Fool, I would 
have saved him and he laughs at me. Go, Guise, go, 
kill the Admiral, if you like, but kill all the Huguenots 
with him, all, all, all, so that not one be left to reproach 
me hereafter. See to it at once, at once do you hear? 
Kill, Tavannes, kill; ha, ha, ha, blood-letting is as 
good in August as in June. Kill ! Kill ! Kill ! Kill ! 

[Exit. 

Guise. At last, at last! Let the bell ring from the 
Palace of Justice, let the great cannon fire! 

[General movement. 

[Curtain.] 

ACT IV. 

Scene II. — Same as Act III. Marguerite and 
Marie discovered. Margot walks about, goes 
to window, seems uneasy and restless. Large 
cross on wall. 
Marie. What is it, Madame? 

Mar. I don't know, Marie. I feel that something 
is going to happen. [Looks out.] How quiet the 
town is, like a city of the dead. There 's a rustle in 
the air like the wind in far-off woods, like the sound 
of a distant sea, a sound one only feels. [Shrinks, 



Act IV. 89 

starts back into the room, and crosses herself.] 

Marie. What is it, Madame? 

Mar. [Hands to face.] It was a bat ; it is an evil 
thing, an omen, it spells misfortune. 

Marie. Fear not, Madame, it has flown away as 
quickly as it came. 

Mar. But it has left a shiver here. [Presses heart.] 
There is something strange on foot; when I left my 
mother's apartments to-night my sister Claude clung 
to me and begged me not to go. 

Marie. Oh, Madame, why did you come then? 

Mar. Because if anything happens I want to be 
near my husband. Where is De Mouhy? 

Marie. He has gone to his lodgings by the side of 

the Belle Etoile. 

Mar. And my hus — the King of Navarre? 

Marie. He is with King Charles. 

Mar. Good. I am glad he is safe with Charles. 
Oh, why did I not have patience, why did I send that 
riband, why did I listen even for a moment to the 
Guise ! 

Marie. Because your husband neglected you, 
because he treated you shamefully. 

Mar. He saw the Guise here; he '11 never believe 
me again. 

Enter Henry. 

Henry. It is late. I came as soon as the King 
would allow me. You wish to see me? 

Mar. For two days I have hoped that every foot- 
fall might be yours, for two whole days, and yet I 
dared not send for you. 

Henry. Dared not! 

Mar. You saw me with the Guise. Sire, I am 
innocent. It is true I loathed this marriage. I had 



90 Henry of Navarre 

not seen you since I was a child. They told me you 
were rough and light of love, but when I met you, 
and you spoke to me of my picture, there was truth 
in your eyes and reverence in your voice. Then you 
changed again, and I longed to punish you. I sent 
a token to the Guise — ere it was gone my repentance 
had begun. I tried to get it back., it was too late. 
He came to my rooms that night and I repulsed 
him. He lost his head; in my terror I called on 
you. 

Henry. And thank God I heard you! I shall 
hear that cry with joy until I die. It is not you who 
were to blame, it is I. See, love, I ask your pardon. 

[Kneels and bows his head. 

Mar. You ! 

Henry. Yes, for I loved you and loving you I 
doubted you. Love should know no doubts. But I 
was not wholly to blame. I would have placed my 
life, my honour in those little hands, but my com- 
rades — I had no right to risk their lives. 

Mar. I do not understand. 

Henry. Do you not know why the King gave me 
his sister for a bride? 

Mar. To prevent brother from killing brother, to 
bring peace to France. 

Henry. To bring peace indeed, the peace that 
comes with death. 

Mar. Death ! 

Henry. Yes, this marriage was to bring the Hugue- 
nots together that he might massacre them. 

Mar. Massacre! No, no. And I was the lure, 
the bait to trap you with. Oh, Henry, you knew this, 
and yet you could love me ! 

Henry. Yes, for I looked into your eyes and saw 



Act IV. 91 

the truth. I knew that you were innocent. When 
did you first love me, Margot? 

Mar. The day your eyes shone on me from the 
crowd. When did you first love me? 

Henry. Before I saw you, Margot. 

Mar. You must not jest with love, Harry. 

Henry. Nay, I saw your picture, sweetheart. 
Your shadow was dearer to me than the self of other 
women. I loved you more when I looked into your 
eyes, and when I heard your voice — sweetheart, we 
have plucked Love's thorns, when shall we gather his 
roses? 

Mar. I am yours, Harry. You may command me 
as you will. Take me, Harry, where we shall be safe, 
take me to Nerac. 

Henry. You will go with me to Nerac? 

Mar. You shall never leave me again. 

Henry. I may stay to-night? 

Mar. To-night, and all the nights while we have 
days. 

Henry. [Steps towards her trembling with delight.] 
Margot! [They are just about to embrace when out of 
the stillness the great bell strikes one, loudly and solemnly. 
They pause and listen. Bell booms again.] 

Mar. What's that? 

Henry. Nothing. A bell — what matter to us? 
To-night I have found my heaven. Come, Margot. 
[Holds out his arms.] 

Mar. [About to fall into his arms.] Harry! [Big 
bell rings out again, other bells join in. Margot 
starts.] 

Henry. What does this mean? [Goes to window.] 
The streets, that were so silent, swarm like a rifled 
hive. Mordieu, how they hum! 



9 2 Henry of Navarre 

Mar. Something dreadful is on foot. Ah, that is 
why Claude tried to keep me close to her. 

Henry. Claude tried to keep you? Charles tried 
to keep me. 

Mar. Then why did you leave him? Oh, go back 
at once. 

Henry. Because you wrote me. I would not have 
stopped for a thousand kings. 
Mar. I did not write you. 

Henry. But I have your letter here. [Places his 
hand over his heart.] It is the first time you have ever 
written me. 

Mar. [Frightened.'] Give it me. Let me see it — 
quickly — at once. 
Henry. Here it is. 

Mar. This is not my hand, it is my mother's. 
Henry. Your mother's? Now I remember, Charles 
would have told me, and she stopped him. 

[The noise in the street meantime has grown 
steadily louder. Shots are heard, then a 
woman's scream, and the voice of the mob 
can now be distinctly heard singing. Mar- 
got screams at shots. 
Henry. [Restraining her.] Listen. 

[From the distance comes clearly the voice of 
the mob singing: 
" Every street shall be a grave, 
A corpse shall float on every wave, 
The Huguenots shall die."] 
Henry. My God, it has come at last. 
Mar. What has come? 

Henry. The massacre. The mob is up; it has 
drunk blood, there are not Huguenots enough in 



Act IV. 93 

France to slake its thirst. Quick, my sword, my hat, 
I must be gone. 

Mar. What will you do, where will you go? 

Henry. To join my comrades, to share their fate, 
if need be to die with them. 

Mar. No, no, you must not die. [Clings to him.] 
I cannot lose you now. Look at me, Harry; I love 
you, I am yours. You will not leave me to-night. 
Stay with me, Harry, you will stay ! 

Henry. God, if I but could! How beautiful you are ! 
[As if yielding to her. Suddenly pulls himself together.] 
No, I will not shun danger to-night, that you may 
despise me to-morrow. Quick, Margot, be brave, 
and buckle on my sword. It was the man in me that 
won you, I will play the man to-night. 

Mar. [Buckling on his sword and crying.] You are 
right, Harry, I would rather lose you than lose my 
love for you. 

Henry. That 's my brave Margot. [Going to door 
without hat.] 

Mar. Your hat, Henry. One last look into your 
face! Oh, how I love you, Harry, and it is my love 
that has brought you to your death! 

Henry. No, Margot, no; kiss me love, and so 
farewell, farewell. 

[Henry exit; she throws herself on her knees 
and prays, if possible on a prie-dieu. 

Mar. Mother of Heaven who suffered so on earth 
plead for me now. Let me not suffer more than I can 
bear. Let me not be the instrument of his death. 
Mother of God listen to my prayer, and give me back 
my love or let me die. 

[Noise increases outside, Marie rushes on. 



94 Henry of Navarre 

Marie. Madame, Madame, they are fighting in 
the courtyard. [Going to window, draws back, covering 
her eyes.] Oh, I can't look, it is too horrible. 

Mar. [Goes to window and looks out.] It is Sou- 
bese; oh, the cowards, ten to one, they in steel corse- 
lets and he in a simple tunic. Look, look, there is 
one who escapes them. It is De Mouhy. Brave, 
brave De Mouhy, see he wards them off. Good heart, 
good arm, he will fight his way through yet. [Yells 
heard through window. Margot shrieks through win- 
dow.] This way, De Mouhy! Dear God, he 's down! 
[Marie has joined her at window; they both look 
out, and in the distance comes the sound of Henry's 
voice: "Navarre, Navarre!" Margot excitedly 
waves her handkerchief.] Look, Marie, it is the 
King, it is my husband, he will save him. Navarre, 
Navarre! Fight on De Mouhy, the King is coming. 
Ah, they draw back afraid, he has reached them. Side 
by side they gain the palace doors, they enter. 
Heaven be praised ! Holy Mary may I not forget ! 
Brave bullies, you hesitate and dare not follow. Mur- 
der has not made its way into the palace. [Waves 
frantically.] Navarre, Navarre! [Rushes to door, throws 
it wide open, enter Henry supporting De Mouhy. 
He places him in chair, Marie runs to him.] 

Henry. Bolt the door» Margot. Quick, Marie, 
some wine, quick, he is fainting. 

De M. [Drinks.] Oh. 

Henry. Can you speak? 

De M. Save yourself, Sire, save yourself, the 
Catholics are up. 

Henry. Then I must join Coligny. 

De M. Coligny is dead. 

Henry. Dead ! 



Act IV. 95 

Marie. Oh, Sire, they are firing from the palace 
windows; see, it is the King himself. 

Mar. My brother ! [Covers her face with her hands 
and shudders.] 

De M. La Rochefoucauld is slain, Soubese, Par- 
dailleu, and Pilus lie dead below. The Catholics, 
white band on arm, and white cross on hat, are mur- 
dering men and women. By morn there will not be 
a Huguenot alive. 

Mar. White band on arm, white cross on hat. 
[Moves to work-basket, busy with hat.] 

De M. The children are not spared. [Howl out- 
side.] Listen. 

Henry. Come, De Mouhy. 

Mar. No, no, Harry. 

De M. Sire, you must not go, you are our last 
hope. If you die, the Faith dies too. 

Henry. You are sure Coligny is slain? 

De M. I saw them butcher him. 

Henry. [With sudden fury.] Them! Who? 

De M. The Guise, Anjou and his Swiss Guard, I 
caught their colours white, black, and green. 

Henry. The Guise, Anjou! 

De M. It was De Besme who did the deed. 

Henry. De Besme, De Besme, you are right, I 
must not die yet. 

De M. De Besme and Scarlabous, they threw 
him from the window right at the Guise's feet, 
and the mob licked their chops and snarled 
just like hungry wolves. He kicked the body 
and I heard him cry "We have killed the lion, now 
for the young cub, now for Navarre!" Dazed, 
sick at heart, half fighting, half praying, I knew 
that I must save you, you are our last hope. 



96 Henry of Navarre 

Sire, I have warned you and I die. [Falls, half 
fainting.] 

Henry. [Supporting him.] Marie, you must see 
to him. [Noise in corridor: "Guise, Guise! quick, 
they come." Henry and Marie help him off. While 
they are gone Margot pins cross on Henry's hat.] 

Henry. [Returns, puts on his hat, draws sword, 
then kisses Margot solemnly.] Good-bye Margot. 

Mar. [Feverishly.] No, no, you must not go yet. 
[As she speaks to him she is tying the handkerchief 
on his arm.] 

Henry. You think I will stay to be butchered 
before your eyes? 

Mar. But you must not go yet. I love you, I 
love you, Harry, stay with me to-night. 

Re-enter Marie. 

Henry. If I but could! No, Margot, I '11 die 
fighting. 

Mar. Then fight them here, fight them, I have no 
fear. Open the door, Marie, and run, run to the King 
my brother. Tell him if he loves Margot, to come 
here at once. 

[Marie opens door and slips out, as enter De 
Guise, Tavannes, De Besme, etc. 

Henry. So you are come, De Guise, you and your 
brother butchers. Ha, ha, De Besme, of all the men 
in the world I wanted to see you. Look, the Ad- 
miral's blood is still bright on your arm. Come on, 
you killed an old man sleeping, but you are not done 
with the Bearnais. 

Tav. This is no place for you, Princess; will you 
retire ? 



Act IV. 97 

Mar. My place is by my husband's side. 

Guise. If she will have it so be it. Down with him ! 

[Several attack Henry who repels them. 

Tav. Stop ! 

Guise. You dare! 

Tav. M. le Due, the King must be obeyed. [Points 
to scarf and cross.] See, the young fox has fooled us 
after all. No wonder he speaks bravely; look De 
Besme, look at his arm. This is no place for soldiers 
with a turncoat. 

Henry. Turncoat ! 

Tav. Ay, turncoat. You knew the King would 
spare you if you recanted. 

[Henry looks wonderingly at his arm. 

Tav. A kingdom is worth a mass, eh, Henry? 

Henry. [Realising.] Ventre St. Gris! Who did 
this? [Tears off scarf.] 

Mar. [Clutching at him.] No, no, Harry, wear it 
for my sake, wear it and my brother will save you. 

Henry. No, Margot, no, not for you will I endure 
dishonour. 

Guise. You do well. I swear if you donned the 
double cross of the Guise it should not spare you 
to-night. 

Henry. Ah, you are brave with Paris armed be- 
hind you. You crawled from the window when last 
we met. Come, be a man and fight foot to foot. 
Fight me like a gentleman of France. 

Guise. Think you I have forgotten? No man 
laughs at the Guise and lives. On him men! 

All. A Guise! A Guise! 

[Henry lunges out at De Besme, who falls. 



98 Henry of Navarre 

Henry. That for Coligny, M. de Besme! Who is 
next? Come on! 

Enter King Charles. 

Charles. Hold ! 

All. The King! 

Mar. Sire, Sire, you are my brother, you are my 
brother, mercy, mercy! 

Charles. You here, Margot ! Why are you not with 
our mother? 

Mar. She sent me here to lure my husband to his 
ruin. But you will save him. 

Charles. What, she would have sacrificed you, too, 
to those stale prophecies? 

Mar. But you are my brother, you will not forget 
it. 

Charles. No, by my soul! Come, Harry, come 
with us. 

Guise. Why do you pause? Come, run the heretic 
through, I command it. 

Charles. Command! God's death, you dare? Let 
a man stir his head. He shall pay for it. 

Guise. Sire, you forget, it must be all or none — you 
said it. You have given us his life and by all the 
saints I '11 have it. 

Charles. What the King gives the King can take 
away. 

Guise. Before the King's Guards come cut him 
down. A Guise! A Guise! 

Guise ards. A Guise! A Guise! 

Charles. [Choking.] God's eyes! [Calling his 
Guard.] Nancay, Nancay! Am I not King of 
France? 



Act IV. 99 

Guise. Ay, King of France, but the Guise rules 
in Paris. [Roars and yells outside.] Do you hear, 
Sire? Dare you ask that mob to stay its hand? You 
have sent those hundred mouths gaping for blood, 
dare you thwart them of their prey? 

Charles. My God, what I have done! What 
monster have I raised? 

Guise. The Guise rules to-night. I have sworn 
an oath and the Guise keeps his word. 

Henry. Then keep it now. 

Guise. I will; down with him men! 

Henry. Stop! Do you know this ring? 

Guise. It is mine; I parted with it some two days 
gone. 

Henry. If the Guise keeps his word, let him keep 
it now. You promised me what I should ask of you. 

Guise. Mon Dieu ! It was a trap. You would ask 
for your life. 

Henry. My life! I could not take it at the 
Guise's hand, stained with Coligny's blood. No, you 
promised to meet me face to face when I said you 
were afraid. Shall I say it again? 

Guise. Pardieu! No, no, stand back men, the 
Guise keeps his word. 
[They engage, Henry disarms Guise, sword at throat. 

Henry. Now Coligny you are avenged ! 

Charles. Stop ! 

Henry. Sire ! 

Charles. Let him go, Harry! 

Henry. Sire, you are the King. He is your enemy 
as well as mine. 



ioo Henry of Navarre 

Charles. I do not fear him. [Voice of mob, points 
out.] I have done that will kill my sleep for ever. 
Nothing can fear me now. But I would save you; 
let him go. 

Henry. Go, your King has saved you. 

Guise. Perhaps he has saved himself. I hate you 
for this, Henry of Navarre, but the Guise will not 
prove ungrateful. [Bows, exit. 

Henry. [At Charles's feet.] Sire, Sire, how can 
I thank you? 

Charles. By holding to the life that I have given 
you, by keeping that upstart Lorraine from too much 
power. [Roar outside: "A Guise, A Guise!"] You 
hear them! But, Harry, he will never reign. My 
time is short and I see many things. I thought you 
but an idler who only woke to a chase or a fete. I 
was wrong, you will be King. You will bring peace 
where I have brought a sword. Good-night Margot. 
[Kisses her tenderly.] Nancay, place your trusted 
guards before the door. See not a soul enters, not 
the Queen-Mother herself. Good-night, Harry. 

[Henry kneels and kisses King's hands, Charles 
turns and exits with his attendants, leaving 
Henry and Margot alone. 

Henry. Margot we are alone. 

Mar. For the first time since the church made us 
one we are alone. 

Henry. Alone indeed; I have lost friends and 
freedom, all save you. 

Mar. Save me and hope. 

[During speech Marie and De Mouhy appear 
at back. Ruggieri appears from cabinet, 
points out of window. 



Act IV. ioi 

Rug. Sire, a star is shining brightly. It first 
shone at your birth, but never so brightly as now. 
Your perils are past. Sire, you will be King. 

Mar. [Tenderly.] My King! 

Henry. My Queen! My Queen of Marguerites! 

[They embrace, curtain slowly falls. 

[Curtain.] 



o<n ax 



HENRY OF NAVARRE 



A ROMANTIC PLAY IN FOUR ACTS 



BY 

WILLIAM DEVEREUX 



THE KNICKERBOCKER PRESS 

NEW YORK 

1908 




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